Smokes
by sendatsu
Summary: Alternate Universe.  After being forcefully moved to live with his uncle, Zuko isn't too excited for the new school year to begin, but he might be able to stand it if he can make friends with Jet.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One~

Zuko dreamed he was a prince who could control fire.

Zuko's alarm screeched and he jolted awake. The boy groaned and rolled over, kicking the tangle of sheets off his legs and slapping his hand down on the offending clock until it shut up. He got out of bed with a sigh, unhappy to leave the feelings of comfort behind, especially when he knew what was coming after.

Zuko wasn't a prince and he couldn't control fire.

The sleepy teen stumbled out of his room and into the hallway. He could hear his uncle moving around in the kitchen, but wasn't in any sort of mood to greet him, and so simply made his way to the bathroom.

Zuko caught a look of himself in the mirror and wished he hadn't. His hair had grown over the summer so that it was thick and messy, but it still couldn't cover the burn scar over the left side of his eye. He rubbed his good eye to clear it of sleep.

When he was little his mother had told him that the sleepies in his eyes in the morning were the left over sand from the Sandman, but of course, Zuko knew better now. He was careful to clean his bad eye, opening it as wide as he could even though it felt stiff and the rest of his burnt skin stretched in protest. He couldn't feel much of it anyway.

After showering, Zuko got out his uniform. Once upon a time he would get excited for the first day of school. When he'd lived with his father he had gone to Hijou Sozen Preparatory School where the uniform was a black blazer with a dark red tie and gold trim. He'd been excited every year that his father would have to buy a new one - it meant he was growing up into a man, which meant he would someday make his father proud. Zuko had stopped needing a new uniform almost two years ago, until he moved - now he had a new uniform he didn't want.

Zuko walked down the short hallway of his uncle's apartment, he carried his new school shoes in his hand. Zuko hated new shoes. Another thing he hated: short sleeve dress shirts. He had to wear one of those too. The uniform for his new school consisted of a white, short sleeve dress shirt, red-brown tie, cream wool vest and light grey pants. Zuko felt like Jesus might have worn this had he gone to a private school.

Zuko reached the end of the hallway and stood in the bright morning light streaming in through the apartment's balcony doors. Zuko's uncle was in the kitchen making tea – which Zuko had discovered over the summer to be a frequent occurrence. Iroh smiled when he saw his nephew.

"Good morning Zuko," He smiled warmly. Zuko didn't smile back, but that didn't dampen his uncle's spirit, it never did.

Zuko stalked past his uncle to the entry way to get his school bag. "I was thinking, since it's your first day of school, we could have breakfast together." Iroh said as he set a pot of fresh tea on the kitchen table.

"I don't want to be late," Zuko replied as he started to slip on his too-tight shoes.

"That's okay, I'll drive you." Iroh poured two cups of tea.

"Then you'll be late." Zuko didn't care if his uncle was late for work, but he didn't really want to eat with him either.

Iroh chuckled, "The nice thing about owning your own tea shop is you can show up as late as you want – I have faith my employees can open up without me."

Zuko sighed quietly and slipped off his shoes again. He could outright deny his uncle, but if there was one thing Zuko had learned it was that warring with family was never worth it. He put down his bag and went into the kitchen.

Zuko had never in his life wanted a cigarette more than he did those first few hours of school. Not with all of Azula's teasing, all Iroh's bad jokes about food, not with everything his father had put him through, nothing could beat this.

Iroh had dropped Zuko off and Zuko had just barely been able to convince him not to come in with him – he was already noticeable enough without a doting parental figure hanging over his shoulder. All the other students at the school had been together since forever – with the exception of the first years. All the other students had singled Zuko out as the new kid as soon as he entered the building. That was when the stares began.

They'd all looked, looked away, then looked again. Eyes flew to Zuko's scar, then the hands would come up to half cover mouths and the whispers would start. Zuko had known it was coming, but that didn't make it better.

White Lotus Private Academy was smaller than Zuko's old school - small even by private school standards. There were twenty-four people in Zuko's class, and that wasn't just his homeroom - that was his graduating class, twenty-four seniors including himself.

Zuko walked up the main stairwell to the third floor where the senior classroom was. A couple of girls in the hallway saw Zuko from his good side and checked him out, he turned his head and they quickly looked away. Everyone looked away.

Zuko found his homeroom and took a seat in the back of the class.

A girl wearing too much eye make- up and dark red lipstick sat down next to him. "I always sit in the back," she explained. She crossed her legs and took something out of the pocket of her skirt. "I'm June," she held out her fist, her nails were painted black. "This is Nyla." She opened her hand to reveal a mole – a living, breathing – rodent – mole. It sneezed.

Zuko moved a seat over faster than he had time to think it rude. What was _wrong_ with people?

A girl up front laughed and whispered to her neighbor, "June's showing off her mole again."

This was a regular occurrence?

The homeroom teacher was a crusty looking old man, bald on the top of his head with long grey hair down the sides. He had a funny little beard and a long dangly moustache – like a Zen master. Which he may have thought he was given the seriousness in his tone. He quickly left to be replaced by their history teacher, a woman who wrote her name on the board as 'Kyoshi'.

Whoever had decided history would make a good first period was an idiot. Zuko spent the class struggling to stay awake and occasionally glancing over to June's desk, where her mole was skittering around. Luckily someone had taken the desk between them. Somehow Zuko had some mental image of the rodent flying at him – this seemed less likely with someone else blocking the way. The boy in question didn't seem to mind, in fact, he slept through the entire first class.

There was a break between first and second period. A boy from another class came to visit a girl sitting near the front. The sides of his head were shaved and the hair on top of his head was long and held back in a ponytail. You'd never see that at Sozen Prep.

Zuko was surprised again when a girl who looked similar to the boy came in. At Sozen Prep the girls had to keep their hair in ponytails, braids, or buns. This girl apparently hadn't been able to make up her mind and had a braid and a bun and these weird hair loopies going from her forehead to her bun. And the girl the two of them were talking to had _white_ hair. Zuko looked away and unfortunately witnessed June kissing her mole.

What the hell.

Second period started out better. June put her mole away and the previously sleeping boy made an effort to look like he was paying attention. Zuko daydreamed out the window until the teacher came up behind him – apparently he was the kind of teacher who wandered.

"Zuko, right? I know the mysterious, distant look is all the rage with the girls these days – and I'm sure you need all the help you can get – but save it for some other class." Zuko decided right then that he hated his math teacher.

Third period their homeroom teacher, Pakku, came back to teach literature and announced that their class would be reading _Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man_ followed by _Walden_. Zuko had read both last year and thought that he officially hated his new school.

Fourth period was chemistry, Zuko didn't even notice the teacher's burnt off eyebrows; the only thing in his head was the thought of cigarettes. He'd always prided himself on smoking two a day, one after school and one before bed, but he knew he wasn't going to make it.

The bell rang for lunch and Zuko bought the cheapest bread available from a funny old man with a green hat, then hurried up to the roof. He'd smoke one less tomorrow.

Zuko was excited at the thought of being away from all these crazy people. So he was a little disappointed, to find someone already in his spot.

It was the boy from his class, the one who'd been sleeping. He was standing against the roof ledge, looking relaxed and at home. He and Zuko seemed to have had the same idea, he was also smoking.

He glanced at Zuko, like he was checking to see if Zuko was going to snitch on him, then he casually plucked the cigarette from his lips and said through a mouthful of smoke. "Hey."

"Uh, hey," Zuko replied, uncertain. So far the only person to talk to him all day had been that nasty math teacher and a girl with a mole in her pocket.

"Want a smoke?"

Even more surprised, Zuko answered hastily. "I've got my own," He awkwardly held up his pack.

The boy grinned ruefully, "Sweet." He popped his cigarette back in his mouth and took a long drag. He half turned and waved Zuko over, "Come people-watch with me."

Zuko hadn't been treated so casually since… ever. When he'd lived with his father he'd been the politician's son – be polite to get in his Daddy's good grace or be polite so as to stay out of trouble. When he'd come to live with his uncle, people spoke to him politely in short sentences, always careful to avoid looking at the left side of his face. No one had ever waved him over to do anything – let alone do something as mundane as people-watching.

Zuko made up his mind; he could handle anyone so long as they didn't carry rodents in their pockets.

He went over and lit up a cigarette, holding it between his middle and ring finger. He saw the boy watching him, his eyes dark and a slight smile on his face. "What?" Zuko asked defensively.

The boy just grinned. "What's your name?"

Zuko scowled, "Its Zuko."

The boy's smile never faltered, he took another drag. "Hey Zuko. I'm Jet."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The next time Zuko saw Jet was in his last class.

There were about fifteen other students; almost all of them were younger kids who probably had a genuine interest in the subject. Zuko recognized one of them as the white haired girl from his homeroom class. She had notebooks out and was waiting with her hands clasped before her, completely prepared for an education. Sitting behind her was Jet, doodling on a piece of printer paper.

Zuko would never claim he was trying to make friends, but he would much rather sit next to Jet, who didn't care, than be judged by the white-haired teacher's pet.

"Is this seat taken?" He asked Jet, indicating the seat next to him.

Jet looked up, surprised. He saw it was Zuko and his mouth split into a half smile. "No," he said in a voice that made Zuko feel a little stupid for asking.

Frowning, Zuko sat down and scowled at his desk. He was ready for this day to be over.

Jet looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "So, what did you have fifth period?"

"Philosophy."

"Oh," Jet said, "I had art."

Zuko raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Are you good at drawing?"

Jet looked at him incredulously, then laughed. "No," he said. "But the homework is easy." He showed Zuko his drawing. "It's something I see every day." Jet had drawn a not very good picture of a tree – much like the one outside the class window. Above the tree he'd written 'what I see every day: living things'. Then he'd drawn a smiley face beside 'living things'.

Zuko looked at Jet's face and saw the other boy's eyes were wide and his grin was crooked, like he could barely contain his laughter. "You should see your face."

Zuko willed his face into a scowl and Jet started to laugh, but was cut off as the classroom door opened and the monstrosity that was their teacher squeezed through the doorway. He was a huge, muscular man with a bald head and a tattoo of a red eye on his forehead. The first years in the front row looked like they were going to cry.

Zuko snuck a glance at Jet; he had that same wide-eyed, trying not to laugh look on his face.

The teacher didn't say anything, just passed out syllabi, then started signing. An hour later Zuko was close to falling asleep when Jet tapped him on the shoulder. He'd doodled on the back of his art homework, it was a picture of the teacher only he had metal limbs and he seemed to be blowing up the first years and the white-haired girl in the front via psychic blasts. Below the picture Jet had written 'Combustion Man'. It was the little heart next to it that finally broke him, Zuko cracked a smile.

Sometime during their last homeroom Zuko and Jet found out they had the same after school club, Mixed Martial Arts. When the final bell rang Jet lead the way down the stairs and out into the courtyard, showing Zuko to the gym building. As they went they passed a muscular, unattractive man. Jet pointed him out, "That's the gym teacher, a.k.a. The Boulder."

"What's his real name?" Zuko asked.

"Dunno," Jet shrugged. "The martial arts teacher is Piandao – the art teacher. He's like a ninja _and_ a samurai."

Zuko wasn't sure he knew what that meant, but decided if it mattered he'd find out later.

"We don't have to wear uniforms today 'cause it's the first day, but later we'll have to wear the pajamas." Jet led Zuko to the gym's annex – which turned out to be the dojo.

"I don't think they're called pajamas." Zuko said defensively. Jet just shrugged.

"I'm just here to learn how to be a badass." He threw Zuko a cocky grin.

Jet strode into the dojo like he owned it – which he might as well have. Jet was the oldest member of the club which meant he was the club captain. The other students bowed slightly when greeting him.

Besides Zuko there were two new students, both first years. One was a bald foreign exchange student; the other was a small girl. Jet sat the three of them together before he went over to talk to a serious looking man with a goatee – Zuko could only assume it was Piandao.

The foreign exchange student stared at Zuko. "Hello," he said in a very friendly voice. "I'm Aang, what is your name?"

Zuko hated socializing, "Zuko."

"Hello Zuko, it's nice to meet you. I hope we can be friends." The boy smiled widely.

Zuko didn't say anything and Aang's smile faded a bit. "He's been friendly all day," the girl sitting on Zuko's left said in an annoyed voice. Zuko wasn't sure at first if she was addressing him, as she didn't turn to look at him, but she kept speaking as though she was. "If he opens another door or tells me about his stupid dog Opi one more time I'm going to hit him."

"It's not 'Opi' his name is Appa!" Aang said, whipping out a cellphone and showing Zuko a picture of a monstrously fluffy dog that might have been the size of a small cow.

"You're in for it now Twinkle-toes." The girl snapped, tipping her head threateningly in Wang's direction. "First chance we get I'm gonna mop the floor with you."

Aang laughed, "You have such funny expressions here!" The girl scowled. Zuko got a good look at the girl's face and awkwardly looked away. He hadn't realized she was blind – how was she going to participate in club?

Zuko couldn't think of anything to say and so sat there feeling uncomfortable between the two twelve-year-olds. Aang kept showing him pictures on his phone and the girl stretched out on the floor in a rather unladylike fashion. Zuko was relieved when Jet squeezed in between him and Aang.

Piandao clapped his hands and the club members quieted down. The teacher greeted everyone and then started to go over the rules – not like they hadn't spent the whole day doing just that. Piandao introduced Zuko and the other new students, Aang and Toph.

Apparently the trouble with such a small school was that there weren't enough students to have a karate club, judo club, kung fu club, etc. so they lumped all the martial arts together for a Mixed Martial Arts Club. The 'benefit' of having a small club meant there was always time for an icebreaker.

"I'm Zuko, I'm a senior, and I don't like ice cream." Zuko scowled; there was nothing more degrading than having to announce your favorite food, color, or ice cream flavor in front of a group of your peers. "I've been taking lessons in Northern Shaolin Kung Fu since I was five." When everyone else introduced themselves there was a lot of chatter than followed; how long have you been studying…? How old are you? You like pecan ice cream? When Zuko spoke they moved right on to Toph.

"I'm Toph, I'm in sixth grade, I prefer watermelon over ice cream any day. I've been studying Southern Praying Mantis since I was three."

What?

Turns out everyone at the club, Katara (hair loopies), Sokka (shaved sides), Aang, Toph, Suki (too much make up); even Jet had been in some form of martial arts since forever. Zuko was very glad he already knew some himself.

Piandao asked for some demonstrations from the new students, which was very embarrassing in the school uniforms. Jet, as the club senior, had to do the demonstrations with the newbies.

Aang wasn't too bad, but he mostly just dodged until Jet got annoyed and caught him by the back of his vest and did a Judo flip over his shoulder. Aang returned to his place, rubbing his back.

Zuko managed to knock Jet over, but then Jet yanked his feet from under him. The girl with the loopies – Katara – laughed at him.

Toph approached Jet looking tiny and cute. Zuko had a feeling it wouldn't last long and he was right. As soon as Jet moved forward Toph gut-punched him.

Piandao passed out injury-risk waivers for everyone to get their parents to sign and the club dispersed.

"Don't ever fight her," Jet came up alongside Zuko. "She's a lot stronger than she looks." Zuko believed it; Jet was walking slightly bent over.

"So – you're new in town?" Zuko found that Jet was following him off the school grounds.

"Yeah?"

"I'll take you to the park," Jet smiled. "I go there to smoke – I've never had someone to smoke_ with_."

Zuko didn't think socializing over smoking was a sign of a healthy friendship, but Jet grabbed his arm and started to lead him off. Zuko thought of his uncle, just waiting to ask him friendly, annoying questions about his day and decided he'd rather do anything than go talk to someone while _not_ smoking.

The park wasn't anything special. It was a small lot sitting next to a quiet intersection with a bank across the street. Half the area was a playground with a tiny slide, an old swing set, and a very filthy sandbox. A few children played while their annoyed looking babysitter sat nearby. She eyed Jet and Zuko as they walked past but was soon distracted when one of her kids started crying.

"What brings you out here?" Jet asked as the two sat down on a park bench. The messy haired boy pulled out his pack and slapped it against the ball of his hand until a cigarette fell out. He lit up with a casual flick of his wrist. "Why'd you move?"

Zuko scowled at his own pack; he didn't like talking about himself – he didn't like lying. "My dad had to go abroad for work – so I came here to live with my uncle." That was the official lie, given to him by his father. Back home, where his father was, they said the opposite – they told everyone that Zuko had gone abroad. Considering the differences between his new home and his old one, this might as well have been true.

If Jet could tell Zuko was lying he didn't say anything. "How's it going with your uncle then?"

"Fine, my uncle's really nice." Nice and fat and lazy and unambitious and everything Zuko's father had taught him to disdain. But then, Jet's aimless friendliness was another thing his father would have hated and here Zuko was.

He lit up and took a deep pull, letting the smoky air fill his lungs. He exhaled heavily.

"You okay?"

Zuko looked up, surprised. So few people in his life would ask him if he was 'okay', it seemed almost like an intimate question to him.

"Maybe you're just quiet?" Jet suggested with a smile.

Zuko scowled, "I don't really like talking about myself."

Jet's smile only grew, "You know, I think you are one of the funniest people I know." Zuko raised his eyebrows and Jet laughed outright. "You're such an emo kid!"

Zuko sputtered, "What?"

Jet just laughed, "It was so funny in club, when you introduced yourself – you looked like you were gonna kill someone!"

Zuko _had _wanted to hurt somebody - now he was considering Jet. Jet just grinned and took a drag. "No wonder – you hate telling people your favorite ice cream flavor." He barked out a laugh.

Zuko got up off the bench. "I think I'll go home." He took a deep pull on his cigarette, ready to put it out and leave, but Jet grabbed his arm.

"Hey, wait, I'm sorry – come on." Jet wasn't laughing, but his smile hadn't gone. He plucked his cigarette from between his teeth. "Try to make a friend here."

Zuko just frowned at him, "I don't need any friends."

Jet's smile only grew, but he didn't laugh this time. "I bet when you get home your uncle will ask if you made any friends today."

"If I say yes he'll just keep asking."

"Sae la vie," Jet nodded sagely. "Listen, Zuko, if it's one thing I've learned it's that other people's lives always get tangled up with yours. If you want to be happy you have to learn to live with people. And!" He raised his hand to cut off any response from Zuko. "Don't say you don't want to be happy or that you hate people because I won't be able to not laugh." Jet was joking but Zuko didn't laugh – once again, his scowl did nothing to dampen Jet's good mood.

Jet clapped his hands. "So," he got up off the bench and flicked the remains of his cigarette into a trashcan. "You can tell your uncle you made a friend today, his name is Jet and he is … charismatic." Jet grinned cockily. "Just leave it at that – one baby step at a time." He winked at Zuko, "We shall slowly strip away those dark emo curtains around your tortured soul."

"What are you even talking about?"

Jet laughed again, "I bet you're a really cute person under all that emo."

Zuko's ears turned red. "I'm not cute!" He sputtered, "And I'm not emo!"

Jet just laughed, and walked away. "See you tomorrow Zuko!"

Zuko sat on the park bench, staring after him. Somehow he felt like he'd lost.

It was evening by the time Zuko got home, his uncle was waiting for him, but he was ready.

"How was school?"

"Fine."

"Did you make any friends?"

"I met a kid named Jet – he's annoying." There, he'd socialized, take _that_ Jet.

Iroh smiled widely, "He sounds like he'll be a good friend." Zuko just stalked over to his room and slammed the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Interest in school peaked around Wednesday, then fell as the homework levels increased. Zuko spent his lunch breaks on the roof with Jet, eating melon bread, smoking, and watching the other students down in the courtyard.

Friday found the two of them in what was quickly becoming their usual spot. Jet leaned casually over the roof ledge and pointed down to anything funny, alternating between pointing, smoking, and chomping down on bread. Zuko ate his bread without talking and only started smoking when he'd finished – just another thing he did that Jet found amusing.

"I am so glad it's Friday – first week sucks." Jet watched Toph below them. She seemed to be trying to lose Aang amongst the other students. Suki and Katara were under a tree nearby, laughing and dancing to some music that the two on the roof couldn't hear.

Zuko didn't respond to Jet's comment – he found Jet talked enough without him adding to the noise.

"Did you have a good first week of school?" Jet asked Zuko in an uber chipper voice.

"It was fine." Zuko took a slow drag. He'd smoked more this week than he usually did – social smoking was going to kill him.

"Oh, yeah – and think of all the friends you made! Me, Aang, maybe Toph – and that math teacher especially."

Zuko groaned, "He's such an asshole."

Jet laughed, "He does like to call on you a lot, huh? What's his name?"

"Zhao."

"Rhyming with 'Satan' right?"

Zuko scoffed and Jet laughed some more. "So, how are you settled at home?"

"Why do you keep asking that?" Zuko snapped.

"Because you seem like you haven't relaxed once since you got here." Jet took a drag, "I don't know about you but I feel more relaxed after a smoke – don't you?"

"I feel calm. I never relax." Zuko snapped.

"Zuko, calm and relax should be syna-syn- what is it?"

"Synonymous?"

"Yeah."

"They aren't though – a river can be calm but it can't relax."

"You think a lazy river isn't relaxing?" Jet grinned and Zuko rolled his eyes. Jet chuckled. "What's wrong then?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Is it because people talk about you?" Jet hit the nail on the head with no hint from Zuko. Zuko couldn't help but look down, feeling embarrassed and annoyed.

Jet exhaled a stream of smoke. "You shouldn't worry about it – they just talk 'cause you're new. In a week or two they'll be talking about boyfriends and homework same as usual."

"I hate it when people talk about me." Zuko unconsciously rubbed his hand over the scarred side of his face, then pulled it away when he realized it. But of course Jet saw it, Jet saw everything.

"I think they stopped talking about that," he indicated Zuko's face and Zuko let his gaze fall to the ground, "on the second day of school. Now they're just talking about you in general. All the kids in club are getting to know you better so they're spreading the word."

"It's that kind of talk I don't like."

"You don't like talking about yourself, you don't like other people talking about you – would you rather no one notice you at all – oh please, don't answer that my emo friend."

"Don't call me that!"

Of course Jet wasn't listening (he had a knack for selective hearing). "June is scaring the pants off those first year girls." He leaned far over the railing and stumbled. Zuko reached to grab him, but Jet saved himself. "Fuck, I dropped my cig!"

A teacher out on the lawn saw the falling object and approached it. Jet yanked Zuko down to hide behind the roof ledge. They crouched, breathless, then hurried to the stairs and ran down.

The two stopped on the third floor just in time to see the teacher, actually the vice-principle, Long Feng, hurrying up to investigate.

"Shit, Zuko – throw that away!" Zuko still had his cigarette. Jet pulled him into the nearest bathroom where Zuko flushed his still smoking cigarette down the toilet.

"Too bad we didn't see what June was up to." Jet said mournfully as he sat up on the sink countertop.

"She was probably just showing off her mole." Zuko leaned against a bathroom stall.

"Her mole?"

"You know, Nyla." Jet clearly had no idea what Zuko was talking about. "Her pet mole? She brings it to class every day and lets it run around on her desk."

"And all this time I thought you didn't have a sense of humor." Jet chuckled dryly, like Zuko's joke wasn't too funny.

"I'm not joking – she sat next to me on the first day and I moved over so I wouldn't be near it."

"You're shitting me!"

Whatever that meant.

"I'm calling your bluff on Monday." Jet grinned cockily, "There is no way anyone would bring a_ live_ mole to school. Besides – I've been in June's class for almost six years and I've never seen any moles."

"I'm telling you, she has one!" Zuko sincerely hoped June would bring her mole on Monday – just to prove Jet wrong.

Jet rolled his eyes and let his attention wander to look around the bathroom. Zuko awkwardly did likewise and noticed something weird hanging on the wall by the bathroom door.

"Huh, there aren't any urinals." Jet noted.

"But there is a tampon dispenser," Zuko pointed to the dispenser on the wall.

"Shit."

The two left the girl's bathroom as conspicuously as possible given they were both running and they fell over each other just outside the door. Jet roared with laughter and Zuko smacked his hand across his forehead. "Happy Friday Zuko!" Jet said cheerfully as he got up off the floor.

"Let's not talk about this ever again." Zuko grit his teeth as he got up.

Jet laughed again, "Okay – we'll save it to tell to our grandchildren."

"I'd rather you not tell anyone I went into the girl's room."

"You went where?" Katara had snuck up behind them.

"Uh-" Zuko tried to think of something witty and instead just straightened his vest.

"We were just checking the facilities of your facilities, and we found you are lacking in urinals – if I were you I'd complain to the principle." Jet said with complete seriousness.

Katara wrinkled her nose, "You guys are gross." She walked away hurriedly, overly polished shoes clacking on the floor tiles.

"That'll be all over the school by Monday." Zuko dropped his face in his palm.

Jet patted his shoulder, "If it makes you feel better, they won't be talking about_ you_." He grinned, "They'll be talking about_ us_."

The weekend crawled by. Zuko did homework, caught up on sleep, smoked on the balcony (when his uncle wasn't home) and occasionally turned on the television, just to make the time go by. When he lived with his father he had more school work, he'd had a gym by his home to practice his martial arts, and he also had a library by his home – so he always had plenty to read. In comparison, Iroh's home was like a prison, there was nothing to do but laze around – sometimes Zuko would take walks just for something to do, and also because he was afraid of getting as fat as Iroh.

When the school week started again Zuko was glad for the routine. Uncle couldn't drive him to school every day but Zuko was fine with this. He'd always preferred skipping breakfast and driving to school in Iroh's beat up old car instead of his family's Bentley was depressing, he'd much rather walk.

Zuko waited patiently for class to start – he almost had forgotten his neighbor. "Morning," Jet yawned as he sank into the desk by Zuko. Zuko nodded in greeting. "How was your weekend?"

"Fine."

Jet yawned again and laid his head on his desk. Zuko watched as his classmates filed in, he only knew three of their names, June, Jin, and Yue. Yue was the white-haired girl – and apparently the top of their class. Jin was a friendly girl who'd spoken to Zuko a few times. According to Jet she had the biggest boobs on campus, but Zuko tried not to think of this when she spoke to him.

June took her seat on Jet's other side. Zuko waited until Nyla was out and then he shook Jet's shoulder. Jet looked up with sleepy eyes, clearly surprised that Zuko was addressing him. The raven-haired boy just nodded toward June's desk. Jet seemed confused for a moment as he looked over, then his eyes focused on Nyla.

Jet grabbed the edges of his desk and slid it over so it knocked into Zuko's, then he followed with his chair. Shoulder to shoulder with Zuko, the two boys stared across the open space as Nyla clambered to the edge of the desk and sniffed at them. June petted her.

Jet looked at Zuko, his eyes wide, "What?"

"I don't even know," Zuko shook his head.

Jet slept through first period as usual – an occurrence that was apparently contagious. Zuko closed his eyes as Kyoshi was talking about some war or another and opened his eyes with a start when the school clock tolled – almost an hour later.

Jet woke up then; he took one look at Zuko's sleepy expression and smiled. "I'm rubbing off on you."

"Please stop," Zuko rubbed his eyes, ignoring the strain on his scar.

A girl was staring at him – he saw her and she looked away. Zuko had discovered over the summer that people don't like to see or touch scars – especially other people's scars, and for whatever reason, people didn't seem comfortable with him touching it either.

"You ready for Wolverine?" Jet's voice cut through his thoughts.

"What?"

"Math," Jet smiled, mussing his hair before he got out a notebook. "I've decided Zhao will now be known as Wolverine."

Zhao walked in at that moment and the class quieted down instantly.

'He doesn't look anything like a wolverine.' Zuko wrote on his notes.

Jet glanced at Zuko's writing and scrawled a response on his own notebook. 'Wolverine from X-men – don't think of the face, think of the sideburns.'

Zuko pressed his fist to his lips to keep from smiling.

'You see it?' Jet wrote.

'I see it.'

"Zuko – come solve this problem." Zhao barked from the front of the class. Zuko got up glumly and Jet patted his back. Still, while answering the problem on the board Zuko couldn't help but steal a glance at Zhao and smile. Wolverine.

After school the two boys went to the gym's locker rooms to change into their gi's (or pajamas as Jet still called them).

They went to the dojo together where they found all the other club members (all five of them) gathered around Aang, who was showing off a picture on his phone. Toph disentangled herself from the group as Jet and Zuko walked up.

"I've never understood people's obsessions with cute things." The blind girl huffed.

"We're just weird that way," Jet ruffled Toph's hair, upsetting her headband. Toph just scowled and fixed her hair.

"C'mon, Toph, it's exciting – didn't you ever have a pet?" Katara asked.

"My parents got me a rabbit." Toph replied, "I set it free."

Aang popped up out of the crowd, "Jet, Zuko, look at my new pet." Out came the cellphone again, this time sporting a photo of what appeared to be a ferret. "His name is Momo!"

"Cool," Jet replied with polite enthusiasm.

"Why did you get a ferret?" Zuko asked, before he could think it was rude.

Aang just smiled proudly, "Ferrets are the preferred pet of this country right?"

Silence.

"No!" Everyone said at once.

"Who told you that?" Sokka demanded.

"It didn't cost a lot did it?" Katara asked in a concerned voice.

Toph threw her head back and laughed.

By the time Piandao arrived the club members were thoroughly roused. Being the martial arts master he was, he found a good way for them to spend their extra energy. Zuko spent half the club on his back doing sit-ups, and the other half sitting on Jet's feet while he did sit-ups. Next to them, Aang and Toph partnered. Toph didn't look too happy to do sit-ups while Aang chatted about how smart Momo was and how he and Appa were already best friends, but she was quite pleased to find that Aang wasn't very good at sit-ups and for once he was quiet.

After the sit-ups Zuko and Jet slumped on their park bench. The evenings were getting chillier – the children on the playground were all decked out in overly large jackets while their babysitter looked less than pleased to be wearing a skirt. Zuko was glad for the warmth of smoke inside him.

"Have you talked to your dad yet?" Jet asked out of the blue.

Zuko tried not to flinch at the question. "No," he said. "He's very busy."

Jet must have heard something in his voice; he looked over at Zuko thoughtfully. "Do you want to talk to him?"

"Of course," Zuko was genuinely surprised Jet would think such a thing – usually he was more perceptive.

"Okay," Jet shrugged and Zuko had a nagging suspicion that the boy didn't believe him, which was annoying to say the least. He almost wanted to tell Jet just how much he wanted to talk to his father – talking was such a normal, stable thing. If he and his father talked he could almost imagine that they had a bond, instead of just the 'I sired you and therefore must make a decent show of raising you' act they had going on. He thought of the first day he'd met Jet when Jet had asked him if he was okay. Would his father ever one day call Iroh's apartment – just to ask that?

"You okay?" There Jet went, asking him that question again. "I know it's rough when your parents aren't around, but y'know, it's not like he's dead or anything." Jet got up and brushed off his pants. "If you want to talk to him, just call him." Jet flicked his cigarette into a trashcan.

"It's not that simple," Zuko muttered.

Jet looked at him and rolled his eyes. "When you want something – go for it. So long as you don't want to kill people – and if that's what you want I'd advise professional help."

Zuko just took a last drag on his cigarette and threw it in the trashcan as well. "Whatever." He got up and started to walk away.

"Emo kid!" Jet called after him.

"Bye Jet."

"See ya Zuko!" Zuko could hear Jet going his own way and risked a glance. Nothing ever phased Jet; he sauntered away just as he sauntered into class that morning.

_Fuck Jet_, Zuko thought. He stood in his uncle's apartment, right in the middle of the hallway where Iroh had decided to plug in the phone. Why couldn't it be in a more private place like a bedroom or an undersea bunker?

Zuko dreaded that Iroh would come home and find him on the phone, but he also dreaded him finding him just standing there.

'When you want something go for it.'

Jet's voice rang in his ears. Zuko sighed deeply - what an impulsive idea. Zuko's father had always hated impulsive people – himself being very calculating. Zuko once had been impulsive – he tried to convince himself that he'd now formed himself into a son his father would be proud of – but the truth was he wasn't sure.

_If I call him he might get mad_, Zuko ran scenarios in his head. _He might tell me off. He might ask about school. I definitely shouldn't mention Jet._

Zuko laid his hand on the phone and picked it up. 'When you want something go for it.' He dialed his home phone number. _Father's going to be pissed._

His heart hammered in his chest with each ring. He thought of hanging up but then realized that the caller ID would betray him_. Fuck technology, fuck Jet, fuck._

Someone picked up, Zuko held his breath. "Hello," came a steely feminine voice.

_Fuck_. It was his sister.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four~

"It's me," Zuko said darkly.

"Oh, hello Zu-zu," Azula said. Her tone was chipper, but her voice was ice-cold. "How's your face?"

The last time Zuko had seen his sister his face had been smoking – flesh melting like plastic. She hadn't been the one to call for help.

"Its fine," Zuko tried to keep his voice even, but in truth he had always been both infuriated and terrified of his younger sister.

"You're going to a school for 'special' people right? How is it?"

Zuko frowned into the receiver; Azula was just trying to get a rise out of him. "It's not like that, it's just a school."

"I'm sure the universities will be very impressed with you."

_Don't let her get to you_, Zuko reminded himself. "Is Father home?"

"What's the matter? Don't you want to talk to me?" Azula's voice almost sounded hurt – but Zuko could hear the smile in her words. She sighed with mock sorrow. _Don't fall for it_, Zuko warned himself. "Dad's not home," she said. "I can take a message for you."

Zuko wanted to leave a message – but what would happen then? His father might call back and then Iroh might find out. Azula might not actually give the message – or she could change his message – or his father might think it stupid or—

'If you want something, go for it.'

_Yeah, that worked out well last time_. "No," Zuko told his sister. "I was just checking in."

"Has Uncle fattened you up yet?" Zuko could almost hear the sneer on his sister's face.

"Good bye, Azula."

"Bye Zu-zu." Azula sounded like she was gloating.

Zuko hung up and stood in the hallway, staring unhappily at the phone. _Emo kid_. He stormed off to his room.

Weeks passed. Zuko didn't call home again. He began to work at his uncle's teashop on the weekends, just for something to do. At least he got paid, the spending money Iroh had been giving him until then had made Zuko feel pathetic not to mention guilty; it all went to cigarettes.

With the extra money Zuko would occasionally treat himself (and sometimes Jet) to jelly bread. Once when Cabbage Man (the bread vendor, so named for his green hat) wasn't looking, Jet swiped two chocolate chip breads. Zuko didn't like stealing – or chocolate chips for that matter – but there was a simple amusement in pulling pranks that he was beginning to appreciate.

One day Jet and Zuko didn't have club and went to the arcade. Zuko won his first crane game, his prize being the ugliest pig doll he'd ever seen. The next day Jet snuck into the teacher's lounge and stuffed the hideous doll into Zhao's desk drawer.

Zuko should have thought that these things were bad, impulsive and childish as they were, but with Jet dragging him into trouble, it was hard not to have fun.

Zuko came to almost enjoy his time at school. First period Jet would sleep with his desk pushed right against Zuko's (so as to avoid Nyla). Zuko would start off paying attention but would inevitably wake up at the end of class, his head down on the desk next to Jet's, their hair touching. Kyoshi never woke them so long as they kept their grades up.

Second period Jet sat up and Nyla was stowed away – Zhao was intolerable. Students who didn't do well on their assignments had to do them again – they didn't get credit for the revisions, but if they didn't do them they received a complete zero. He called on students all the time in class and was generous with pop quizzes. Needless to say, Zhao was very much disliked amongst his students.

After math was literature with Pakku. Zuko had already read the material and so had no issue with taking another nap. Jet hadn't read the material but slept anyway. After literature was chemistry, taught by an eccentric man who had forgotten to write his name on the board the first day of school. Zuko only knew him as 'Teo's Dad' (Jet had pointed out Teo to him on the roof, the crippled boy was smart enough to skip grades but was still stuck in the special needs class with Toph and Aang).

After chemistry was lunch.

Jet and Zuko smoked and watched their classmates below. Katara and Suki seemed to have formed a dance group – there were rumors of a club rising.

Jet and Zuko watched from above and saw Aang leave Toph and Teo to join in with the growing dance group. The two exchanged amused, disbelieving looks as Aang tried to swing his hips with the girls.

"If I joined a dance club would you join too?" Jet asked.

"No." Zuko replied flatly. Jet just laughed.

Zuko stole a glance at Jet. He'd been over-confident in his glance-stealing as of late, but he didn't care.

Jet leant against the roof ledge, his arms crossed; only moving to pluck his cigarette from his mouth. When he smoked he held his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, as delicately as a blade of grass. Zuko held his cigarette between his middle and ring finger, when he smoked it looked like he was covering his mouth, trying not to barf.

The wind blew gently and Jet's thick brown hair fluttered. Zuko's eyes followed the changing ripples of auburn then trailed down his back. Jet leaned against the wall casually, his back curved gracefully, Zuko just slouched against it. His eyes fell to Jet's waist. The boy was skinny, but just as much so as Zuko and Zuko knew from when the two changed in the gym locker room that he was very toned.

"See something you like?" Jet teased, shaking his ass a little.

Zuko's eyes flashed to Jet's face. He thanked years with Azula for teaching him how to ignore certain comments. "I just noticed that you don't tuck in your shirt."

Jet snorted, "Yeah. No one tucks in their shirt – except you."

Zuko looked down to his waist. "This is part of the dress code!"

"Yeah, like the tie." Jet scratched his neck, emphasizing the fact that he not only wasn't wearing the tie, he hadn't buttoned his shirt all the way.

"Criminal."

"Emo."

"Lots of people follow the dress code."

"Really?" Jet grinned and turned to look over the edge. "Let's count!"

Zuko thought it was stupid to do such a thing – but Jet started pointing out all the people not up to code and his competitive side won out.

He spotted Toph – no shirt tucked in, no tie – wearing tights? That definitely wasn't part of the code. Sokka's shirt wasn't tuck and his tie was crooked. Katara and Suki hadn't buttoned their shirts all the way, in fact, Zuko had a hard time spotting any girl whose shirt was buttoned all the way – June had left her shirt open down to her vest, showing off a pale chest.

Zuko saw countless others, all of whom didn't seem to care much about their uniforms – some of them not even wearing the right pants or skirts.

"There's one." Jet pointed down to Yue. Zuko rolled his eyes. "There's another." Aang.

Zuko sighed and loosened his tie a bit. Jet laughed and clapped him over the shoulder. "One step at a time!"

Jet wasn't laughing later when Combustion Man approached the two of them in Sign Language and handed them their grades. The silent teacher then gave them an assignment for extra credit.

"I think they should have a list of electives that aren't blow-off classes and a list that are – that way I would have known not to take this." Jet showed Zuko his grade – 62%.

"How did you get that?" Zuko asked incredulously, "It's not that hard!"

"My strong suit is studying like hell before tests – it's hard to study for these tests when you didn't pay attention in class." Jet stuffed the paper into his bag. "How'd you do?"

Zuko showed him his report. It wasn't much better than Jet's.

"And how'd you get that?"

"I always translate everything too literally and I don't do the facial expressions correctly." Zuko scowled, Jet had that crooked trying-not-to-laugh grin on his face again. "What's this extra credit?" He buried his face in the paper, ignoring his friend.

The assignment was to make a music video in Sign Language. Zuko felt a sinking feeling in his stomach from knowing he was going to have to do something he didn't really didn't want to.

"It says we can work in pairs." Jet grabbed Zuko's hand, "That's us."

Zuko pulled his hand away, "Maybe I'll partner up with Yue."

"Like she needs the credit," Jet rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

"She'll probably do it just for the learning experience." Zuko said in a low voice, making Jet chuckle.

"Do you have a camera?" He changed the subject.

"No, do you?"

"Maybe," Zuko shrugged, "I'll ask Uncle."

"Ooooh, we should film at your place – I want to try some of your uncle's tea."

"You can just come to his teashop."

"As much as I'd love for you to serve me tea in an apron," Jet sighed with mock sorrow. "I don't know where that is." He shrugged and grinned sweetly (his begging look).

"Fine," Zuko scowled (his regular look).

After club the two went past the park to Jet's apartment. A quick conversation earlier ("Zuko, do you have any music?" "No." "Right, dumb question.") lead Jet to believe that day one of their two week window for the creation of their project should be spent finding the right song.

Zuko stood awkwardly in the doorway of Jet's apartment, trying not to stare.

The place was tiny, much smaller than Iroh's. The door opened into a single room. A mini-fridge, microwave, and toaster formed a tower of food preparing technology against one wall. Next to this was a bookshelf – currently being used to store pantry items and Jet's hot plate. A TV sat on a small table against the other wall. Jet had plopped his ratty looking couch right in front of it, with a completely full ashtray between them. The ashtray and single bedroom confirmed Zuko's suspicion that Jet lived alone – but when Jet finally emerged from his bedroom Zuko didn't question him.

The pair made their way to Zuko's apartment after that (Jet said they needed more room). Zuko really wanted to stop and have a smoke told himself that so long as Jet could hold out – so could he.

As they walked, Jet showed Zuko his CD collection; 8 mixed CDs that his friends had made for him. "All you need is one friend with an mp3 player and an internet connection – boom! Limitless music!" He bragged.

"You have an mp3 player?"

"Nope, a Walkman." Jet grinned like owning a Walkman was just about the coolest thing a person could do.

Zuko lead Jet into his apartment, feeling a little self-conscious about the stark differences between their living conditions. He remembered the first time he'd come to his uncle's apartment – how he'd thought it was cramped and airless. Now as he watched Jet look around politely he realized how stupid he'd been.

"It smells like a home in here." Jet smiled.

Zuko wasn't hungry but he offered Jet something to eat and the two of them ended up devouring a whole bag of crackers and an iced tea each.

The pair sat side by side on the floor of Zuko's room, Zuko with his feet crossed and hands in lap, Jet with his legs stretched out, balancing his Walkman on his thigh as the two shared headphones.

"I love this song," Jet would tell Zuko.

"It's in Romanian."

"It's awesome."

Jet asked Zuko what songs he liked and when Zuko inevitably said he didn't like any songs Jet called him emo again.

The two listened to an eclectic array of music for almost an hour. They would start talking and get distracted, Jet would suddenly remember a good song that Zuko might like (not one they could use for their video – but wasn't it such a good song anyway?) and then the batteries in Jet's Walkman died. The boys spent a good ten minutes tearing through the kitchen drawers looking for replacement batteries.

"I found the matches in case you want to start a fire." Jet announced. "Ooooh, stickers!"

"I found a cleaving knife," Zuko shot his friend a meaningful glare and Jet made his eyes go wide while doing kissy lips – the look that always amused Zuko too much, he had to look away.

Zuko had just found his cousin, Lu Ten's grade school workbooks and felt a sudden tug of depression when Jet found the batteries. "For future reference, the batteries are in the third drawer down – three over." He announced.

While Jet resuscitated (as he called it) his Walkman, Zuko took off his tie and loosened his collar – he was just about tired of wearing his uniform. He noticed Jet watching him.

"What?"

"I thought of a song," Jet smiled and dug through his CDs. "It's not too fast – the vocab isn't too hard – it's perfect!"

Jet popped an ear bud into Zuko's good ear and pressed the forward button on his Walkman until he found the right song. A happy sounding jingle started up, Zuko instantly didn't like it. The singing started and Zuko noted the singer's British accent. The chorus sang '_show some love, you ain't so tough, come fill my little world right up, right up'_. It was peppy, cutesy, and unless Zuko was completely incompetent, a romance song – but it _was_ slow and the words _were_ simple. He told Jet it was perfect.

"Great!" Jet grinned.

"I never pegged you as someone to listen to such… happy music." Zuko remarked.

"I like a variety of music," Jet said smartly. "I have happy, peppy music," he held up the '_Fill My Little World'_ CD – it had a smiley face drawn on it. "I have metal," he held up a CD with an angry face on it. "And I have emo." A CD with a sad face.

"Want to borrow one?" He offered the angry and the sad CD.

"No thanks." Zuko rolled his eyes and Jet laughed.

For the next few days the boys practiced their signing anywhere they could (except during school; that was nap time). After a few days of more seeing more signing than martial arts from the two of them, Piandao excused them from club – at least until they'd finished their project. Zuko thought they were in trouble but Jet reassured him that Piandao wasn't the sort to lose his temper.

The two went to the park early, smoked, and then went on to Iroh's apartment.

The day before, Zuko had gotten Iroh's camera – it was a few years old and had an unfortunate video saved from Zuko's cousin, Lu Ten's graduation ceremony. Zuko bought a new tape and stashed the old one in the drawer with Lu Ten's school things. He didn't tell his uncle.

The two boys filmed on the balcony, where the view was halfway decent. They used an ancient CD player that belonged to one of Jet's friends. Then they spent their time fighting over who did a worse job – Jet for forgetting his signs or Zuko for not doing the correct facial expressions or mouthing the words.

There was an awkward hour when Zuko tried to help his friend, grabbing his dark skinned hands in his own pale ones, moving his arms or his fingers the right way until he became embarrassed (he hoped Jet would chalk it up to frustration and not anything else). Then Jet tried to help him with facial expressions, but whenever Zuko made any face other than his usual frown Jet would start laughing and Zuko would get embarrassed all over again.

The two ended up procrastinating; smoking against the railing and leaning close together to listen to the song on Jet's Walkman and practice their signing.

Luckily the shared headphones left them each with an ear free or they might not have heard Iroh come in in time to throw their cigarettes over the balcony's edge.

Iroh was so excited to meet Jet, 'Zuko's new friend'. He asked how their project was going and laughed at their hesitant response.

"I always find the best way to procrastinate is to make yourself busy," Iroh chuckled. "How would you like to help me make dinner – I'll make curry if you like."

Jet smiled brightly, "That sounds great."

"Wonderful – how about you clean up your things and I'll get everything started." Iroh rolled up his sleeves as he turned to head into the kitchen.

Zuko wasn't sure how he felt about making dinner. He'd always had servants to cook for him at his father's house – but he reminded himself that even if he went back home someday, he would eventually go to college and move out and have to take care of himself. Cooking was a skill he should probably learn.

The two boys cleared the balcony; packing up the camera, CD player, and Walkman, and storing them in Zuko's room.

"Maybe you should borrow a shirt from Zuko so you don't get your uniform dirty." Iroh called out his suggestion from the kitchen.

Cooking _and_ loaning clothes? Zuko felt like things were moving a little too quickly.

A nod from Jet showed he agreed and Zuko reluctantly opened the doors to his closet to show his pitiful lack of casual clothes. He picked out his two least favorites (for all he knew they might never be usable again) and gave Jet a faded red T-shirt. For himself he wore a grey T-shirt reading 'HiJou Sozen Preparatory School Shaolin Martial Arts'.

Jet caught a glance at Zuko's closet. "You need to do some serious clothes shopping."

Zuko awkwardly held a potato in one hand, a scrubbing brush in the other. "Just hold it under the water and scrub for a second or two," Jet grinned, amused at his friend's discomfort. Zuko followed his directions – it wasn't too hard. But still, somehow Jet could peel a whole potato before Zuko could wash even one.

Iroh cut up an onion on Zuko's left side. The smell made Zuko's eyes tear up – and with the burned skin on that side, Zuko's didn't have much room to see through already. He angrily swiped a fist over his eye. Iroh and Jet didn't take notice. Good.

By the time they'd peeled and cut everything and thrown it all into the pot Zuko had washed two potatoes and cut one carrot – a big step for him.

"I hope your parents won't mind you staying for dinner." Iroh said as he got out cups and plates.

"Actually I live alone," Jet replied, as he and Zuko sat at the kitchen table.

"So you don't get enough homemade food?" Iroh sat down opposite them.

"Not any," Jet laughed lightly.

Iroh chuckled, "I know what you're going through – before my nephew came to live with me I would just go to the convenience store down the street every night."

Zuko hadn't realized that making dinner had been out of his uncle's routine. "You don't' have to make dinner for me," he said, slumping in his chair.

"Oh, it's fine – I enjoy it." Iroh smiled and waved his hand dismissively, "I'm sure Jet will agree that it is a welcome change."

Jet smiled back at Iroh, "It sure is."

Zuko thought of Jet's comment the first time he'd visited, 'It smells like a home in here'. Was this what he'd meant? Zuko felt he understood better now than he had then. With his uncle and Jet, talking normally, dinner bubbling pleasantly on the stove – had he ever had moments like this when he lived with his father? He must have at least once – when his mother was around and his father wasn't so deep into his politics. Before Zuko's main communication in his household became those brief moments when he spoke with servants.

Iroh chuckled at something Jet had said. Zuko's attention came to in time to see Jet turn to look at him. Zuko saw his dark eyes flash and a smile spread across his features. He felt a flutter in his chest.

The world seemed to go quiet as he watched Jet, his dark-toned hands gesturing, his eyes attentive, politely listening to Zuko's uncle, his lips… Zuko felt like he was falling away.

_I can't do this again_, he thought.

Right on cue to snap him from his thoughts there was a knock at the door. Zuko nearly jumped out of his seat, "I'll get it." He said quickly. Anything to get away from Jet.

He opened the door expecting… well, not what he saw.

There she was, looking around haughtily like she owned the space where she stood, her posture stiff as a statue, proper as a princess. She looked like a cobra ready to strike. Azula.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five~

"Hello Zuko!"

The cutesy voice Zuko heard didn't fit his sister's face. He glanced over her shoulder and saw her friend, Ty Lee. Standing on Azula's other side was her other friend, Mai. The three of them looked the same as usual, decked out in Sozen Prep's girl's uniform. Mai looking bored and detached like she always did, contrasting sharply with Ty Lee, who looked excited and interested. Azula was the twisted medium between their two personalities – but she was also quite different. She was the only one who looked at Zuko as if he were some sort of joke, the only one who looked cruel.

"What are you doing here?" Zuko asked, his mouth dry. He still didn't quite believe the three girls were really there.

Azula frowned slightly, "Not even a friendly 'hello' for your little sister?" She smirked, "You've been spending too much time with the lower class – your manners are slipping."

Iroh came up to Zuko's side then, curious at what was taking his nephew so long. "Azula!" He exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"

"Really, is there no sense of etiquette left in the world?" Azula flashed a wicked smile over her shoulder to her friends. To Zuko and Iroh she sighed sadly, "We were on a school trip nearby and I decided I wanted to visit my _dear_ brother. Now," her face went cold, "aren't you going to invite me in?"

Iroh pulled Zuko aside, "Of course Azula, thank you for visiting." He didn't sound very thankful though.

Zuko extracted himself from his uncle's grip and hurried, ignoring his sister, to the kitchen. "My sister's here," he hissed to Jet. Jet gave him a look like 'why do you look like that's such a bad thing?'

Azula stepped into the apartment, Jet saw her, but she didn't notice him. She looked around the flat, not even trying to hide her disdain.

"What a dump." Mai sighed.

"I like it!" Ty Lee skipped around the two of them and grabbed a throw pillow off the living room couch. "It's so small and cozy." She hugged the pillow, then held it up for a second before setting it gently back down. She plopped on the couch. "It's so homey!"

"It smells," Mai noted in a bored tone.

"We were just making dinner," Iroh explained.

"Zuko made food? Are you going to follow uncle into the food service, Zu-zu?" Azula smirked. "I see you're still reminiscing over Sozen Prep."

Zuko looked down at his old club shirt; he could feel his ears heating up.

"Doesn't your new school offer you even a cheap T-shirt?" Azula sighed with mock sympathy.

"We don't have enough members," Jet finally spoke. Azula's eyes flashed to him, dangerous. "My names Jet," he stood up with a smile, "I'm Zuko's friend."

Azula let out an incredulous laugh, "Zu-zu's made friends? That's a little unbelievable."

Zuko could tell by the sag in Jet's smile that his friend had just realized that Azula wasn't teasing in a normal sibling way.

"I don't know about that," Jet pulled his smile up again, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I think Zuko's a pretty nice person – why shouldn't he have any friends?" Jet was just being defensive; he was always telling Zuko different ways to help him make friends – since he apparently sucked at it.

Azula smiled coldly, "You're right, who wouldn't want to be friends with a politician's son? Tell me, which worker's union does your father work for?"

Zuko could feel anger coming off Jet like waves. Without thinking he reached out and put a hand on Jet's shoulder, partly to reassure him, partly to hold him back. Azula saw his movement, then met his eyes. She quirked her eyebrows just a bit. Her expression read 'Need I say anything?'

The awkward moment was broken as Iroh hurried to the stove to pull the curry off the heat. "Will you be joining us for dinner?" He asked Azula with false politeness.

Azula scrunched her nose and Mai covered her mouth. "No, we were just stopping by. We're leaving now."

On cue, Ty Lee popped up off the couch, her braid swinging behind her.

"People have been asking where you've gone off to Zu-zu," Azula stated off-handedly. "Maybe Dad will bring you back soon."

Zuko shouldn't have, but he couldn't help himself, "Really?"

His sister ushered her followers out the door. She glanced over her shoulder as she went. "Well, it depended on how good your face was looking. I'll have to tell Dad it didn't heal well."

"That's enough," Iroh cut in. "Thank you for visiting Azula. Perhaps next time you could call first and we'll prepare a proper meal."

Zuko's ears burned, even more so when he saw Jet's mouth was open, speechless with offense.

"That sounds wonderful, Uncle." Azula lied, "Chao." She waved her hand lazily. Ty Lee waggled her fingers over Azula's shoulder. Mai closed the door and the sound echoed in the silent apartment.

There was a moment of quiet. "It's always nice when relatives visit." Iroh said as cheerfully as possibly.

Silence.

"Who's hungry? I am." Iroh hurried almost comically to put curry and rice on plates.

"She's … a character." Jet said awkwardly, trying to hide obvious contempt and reassure Zuko at the same time. Zuko didn't reply and the two lapsed into silence.

Iroh tried to maintain conversation and Jet tried to reciprocate, but his heart wasn't into it. Zuko was unreachable, having withdrawn into himself.

Had his father been thinking of letting him come home? Azula always lied, but she wouldn't hesitate to dangle the truth before him if she thought it would get a rise out of him. Zuko was reluctantly hopeful, embarrassed, and angry all at once. He could go for a smoke.

After dinner, Zuko said his goodbyes to Jet very offhandedly, and if Jet looked a little hurt when Zuko closed the door on his face Zuko didn't notice.

The next day was Friday; the most joyous day of the week for Jet (and sometimes Zuko), but neither of them were very cheerful that morning.

"You okay?" Jet asked.

"Fine."

"You're not … y'know, bugged by what your sister said yesterday, are you?"

"No." Zuko didn't care about cracks about his appearance. He expected that much from Azula.

Jet was quiet for a moment before he attempted conversation again. "Y'know, I was curious about something she said about your dad—"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay, okay," Jet raised his hands defensively. "How about Sign Language? We have to do some filming today right?"

"Whatever."

Jet scoffed in annoyance. "If you don't want to just say so."

"I don't care."

"You're acting emo again."

"Whatever."

Jet scowled, "Your sister turns up and suddenly you wrap yourself up in your little emo-box again."

Zuko crossed his arms on his desk and wished Jet would go away. Jet gave up trying to talk to him and instead put his head down for his morning nap.

Zuko was no longer preoccupied with thoughts of going home (or so he told himself) and instead worried over the tidbits of information Jet could pick up from Azula – there was no way Jet could forget such spiteful words – no way he wouldn't be mulling them over and wondering. That was Jet's way. He could read Zuko like a book, and given the information Azula had given him, he would be able to see deeper than before. The thought made Zuko afraid, which made him angry.

The two barely spoke a word during all their classes until lunch. Without thinking, Zuko bought his bread from Cabbage Man and went up to the roof, only when he was there did he fully realize that being on the roof with Jet meant he would have to talk to him.

But Jet didn't come, not at first anyway. Zuko had finished his bread and was leaning with his elbows on the roof railing, looking down on his classmates and thinking it wasn't nearly as entertaining without Jet. He felt very lonely smoking by himself, but was too afraid and frustrated not to.

When Jet came up he seemed distracted, he hadn't touched his bread and made no move to eat it. Instead he pulled out a cigarette immediately. He was so out of it, he didn't go to his usual place on Zuko's right – closer to the door – but walked over to Zuko's other side.

Instantly Zuko felt uncomfortable. From that angle Jet could see him better than Zuko could see him. He turned his head slightly to look at Jet, trying not to make what he was doing too obvious.

"I'm a terrible person," Jet admitted unhappily.

The statement took Zuko completely by surprise, partly because of what was said and partly because of the serious tone it was said in. "What?"

"I broke a girl's heart," Jet sighed. "And I don't really care." He looked at Zuko tragically, "I'm a bad person."

Of all the resounding questions in his head the first to burst form Zuko's lips was: "Who?"

Jet looked dead serious, "You won't tell?"

"Who would I tell?"

"Katara."

Zuko's good eyebrow rose, "I'd never tell Katara – she doesn't even like me!"

"No, I mean, it was Katara. She just asked me out."

Zuko's eyes couldn't go any wider. He thought of what he knew of Katara; she was a good dancer and a good martial artist and aside from her strange taste in hairstyles she was kind of pretty - or at least, Zuko thought that her blue eyes stood out strikingly from her dark skin in an attractive way. "What did you say?" He asked.

Jet rolled his eyes. "I said no – weren't you listening?"

"Sorry," Zuko said a little awkwardly. He wanted to ask why. Katara had never been particularly nice to Zuko – but he knew she wasn't a bad person from the way she acted towards her friends. Maybe a little bossy and motherly but she never treated Jet that way. Why wouldn't he go out with her? More importantly to Zuko – was it because he liked someone else? As much as he wanted to ask Zuko forced himself to say something else; "How'd she take it?"

Jet sighed, "Well she didn't cry, which is good – I can't handle it when people cry. She was just sad." He frowned into his hands. "I didn't really care though, that's the problem."

Zuko shrugged. "_I_ wouldn't care."

Jet glared at him, "That's because you have Anti-social disorder."

Zuko glared back, he didn't think that was very funny – he was fairly sure Azula actually did have Anti-social disorder.

Jet took a pull on his cig. "I knew it was coming. She used to be with Haru then he got that _mustache_."

"Oh, _him_."

"Yeah, _him_, so he got that stupid mustache and ever since she's been giving me the googley eyes." Jet scratched his forehead in a self-conscious way that Zuko found oddly cute.

Zuko shrugged, "She'll get over it. Once I …" He snapped a nervous look to Jet, hoping he hadn't been listening. He had. Zuko sighed and continued, "I got rejected once."

"But only once, right?" Jet grinned mischievously and Zuko frowned.

"She'll get over it," He reiterated. Zuko had gotten over his first crush, a classmate who just so happened to be a boy. Zuko had confessed and in the midst of turning him down the boy added insult to injury and pitied him. 'I won't tell anyone,' he'd said.

Zuko had learned it was best to keep these things to himself.

The two stood in silence for a time, each lost in their own thoughts. The only sounds to be heard were those of the students below the whisper of brown and orange leaves crawling across he ground, and Jet and Zuko, breathing deeply through smoke.

The air was chillier than it had been, it wouldn't be long before the students switched from their cream-colored vests to cream-colored sweaters. A gust of fall wind blew up the side of the building, carrying a few stray leaves up to fly past Jet and Zuko, buffeting them like tiny wings as they went.

Jet broke the silence. "About what your sister said-" Zuko tensed. "I'm sure you didn't want me to hear all of that, but I want you to know it doesn't matter to me. None of it. Sure, some of what she said was weird or it didn't really match what you've told me about yourself but mostly it was just kind of rude. No, it was just nasty." Zuko's ears got hot. "If you want me to forget about it, then I will, but you have to tell me what you want or I won't let it drop."

Zuko was pretty sure he'd just been given an ultimatum. He almost felt like telling the truth. His mother, his father, his sister, all were so many complicated puzzle pieces in his life and if anyone could fit them together it was probably Jet. But Zuko was afraid.

Then Jet broke the taboo. He reached out towards Zuko – towards his face. Zuko couldn't see out of his left eye too well, but he saw the shadow of movement and the color of Jet's hand as it moved. He stepped back quickly and smacked Jet's hand away.

Jet looked stunned, his eyes wide, cigarette drooping from his lips, Zuko had dropped his. "It … there was just a leaf." The sound of Jet stumbling over his words cut Zuko deeply; it was because of him, he realized, something in his reaction, in his face, had thrown Jet off balance.

Zuko slipped his mask back on, angrily grabbing at his hair. Jet hadn't been lying; Zuko's hands closed around the tiny dry leaf and yanked it free. The stupid thing crumbled in his hand, its very existence making Zuko feel all the worse.

"Zuko," Jet reached for his hand and for once he seemed unsure. Zuko pulled away. He was embarrassed, he was afraid, he was angry. He'd let his mask slip, Jet had seen the coward hiding inside him.

"Zuko!" Jet called after him, but Zuko didn't reply, he couldn't speak, he could only walk away.

Zuko skipped his last two classes, but he didn't go home either. He needed a break. He passed by his and Jet's park and finally, when he didn't want to walk any further, he backed into an alley and lit up. The smoke felt heavy inside of him as he leaned against the wall and felt worthless.

Surprised myself a bit while editing this in that I actually wrote stuff that I liked BETTER (almost never happens). Special thanks to all who've commented and/or favorited you are beautiful people.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six~

Iroh knew Zuko had cut class. Apparently Piandao, Jeong Jeong, and Pakku were old friends of his and they had some sort of network to report Zuko's progress to his uncle. Zuko found this to be extremely irritating and shunned his uncle when he tried to talk to him about skipping class.

Although Iroh asked him to, Zuko didn't work at the teashop that weekend; instead he spent almost the whole time in his room, alternating between reading the few books he'd gotten from the school library and moping.

When Monday finally rolled around Zuko was quick to get ready, yanking on his fall uniform sweater and putting his tie on so quickly he didn't even notice his shirt wasn't tucked in properly and said tie was crooked.

His uncle had barely put on the morning tea when Zuko sped out the door.

He got to school early and loitered around the front gate. The morning was cool and damp. The chill combined with his nerves drove Zuko to pull out his pack for a quick smoke. The school wall felt like a block of ice, but still Zuko leaned against it, occasionally hiding his cigarette behind his back whenever someone came near.

Zuko had hurried out the door partly to avoid Iroh and partly to make himself feel like he was goal-oriented. Today was the day he was going to apologize to Jet. He was dreading it, but what he dread even more so was Jet apologizing to him.

Zuko waited patiently as Teo and his father passed by. The Professor nodded kindly at Zuko, no doubt recognizing him from class and Zuko bowed his head in response. He felt a profound sadness watching the boy in the wheelchair being pushed by his father. Would his own father push him if he were in a wheelchair?

Once the two were safely inside the school, Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed smoke. '_Fuck, one issue at a time'_, he scolded himself. '_Emo kid_.'

He dropped his cigarette and ground it under his shoe, then walked through the main gate. Almost immediately he felt badly for littering and turned to pick it up and throw it away properly.

The school felt quiet and alien so early in the morning. The sound of Zuko's shoes hitting the tiles seemed to echo into a swallowing silence as pale, clean hallways stretched on before him – looking longer than ever when there were no students to fill the space. Cold light glanced in through the windows and open doorways of classrooms so that Zuko could see the dust he unsettled, dancing through the air as he walked.

The quiet was broken as Teo rolled out of the library. Zuko passed by him, feeling awkward. The boy smiled kindly at him and he tried to smile back, but couldn't do it too well.

He went up to the third floor and took his usual seat in the classroom, then debated whether or not to take a nap. Would Jet wake him? Would Jet not wake him? Which was worse? Zuko chose to stay awake and found that to be not the best option after all – though not for the original reason he thought it might be.

Yue came in, but she didn't notice Zuko sitting quietly in the back. Zuko for his part wasn't surprised to see her there early; she seemed like such a teacher's pet. He expected her to get out her notebooks and start studying – which she did. But then, instead of studying she put her head down on her books. He thought she might be sleeping but then he saw that her shoulders were shaking. Yue was crying.

_Shit._

Zuko tried to forget he'd seen. He pulled out the first thing at hand in his bag – just for something to do. But then he realized he'd gotten out his copy of Walden. Why was he even carrying it? He willed himself to be interested in the book but it was hard enough to read without a distracting, distressed girl nearby. Finally, after all of two minutes, Zuko let the book fall back onto his desk.

He stood up and made his way to the front of the class with hesitant steps. "Hey," he said, "are you okay?"

Jet must have been rubbing off on him; a few weeks ago Zuko would have been able to ignore Yue's tears.

The girl looked up, surprised. Her blue eyes were glossy and sad. "I'm fine," she said, trying to recover herself. "I've just had a bad morning."

WWJD? What would Jet do?

"You want to talk about it?" Zuko's voice sounded awkward as he spoke and he winced slightly, she probably thought he was a weirdo.

A fresh tear gathered at the corner of Yue's eye and she bit her lip. Zuko was thrown; somewhere along the way he'd gotten the impression that Yue was a studious and strong-willed princess, and here she was; acting completely human.

"My parents arranged for me to get married this summer." Yue's eyes welled up. "What am I going to tell Sokka?" She burst into tears and Zuko could do nothing but stand there, feeling terrified, stupid, and embarrassed. He wondered why any of this would matter to Sokka.

"You uh… should tell him the truth?" He suggested uncertainly.

"It'll break his heart!" Yue wiped her tears with the palms of her hands. Zuko stole the tissue box from the teacher's desk and gave it to her. He wished Jet was there, he was so much better at dealing with people than Zuko was.

"I don't know a lot about these things – but if you lie to him – it might just hurt him more." He thought aloud. He was assuming Sokka and Yue were dating (it would explain why Sokka was always coming to visit her during their free periods) and he decided he would be mad if he was wrong and he'd just made a fool of himself.

Yue cried softly into a tissue. "I don't want to get married." She said in a muffled voice, "But I can't let my parents down."

Zuko tried to think logically and came up with nothing. He tried to think like Jet.

"If you want something go for it." He said without thinking.

Yue looked up in surprise at his tone and Zuko's ears went warm. He corrected himself, "I think you should find what's most important to you and go with that."

"But-" Yue stammered, "They're my parents!"

"Well, I don't know." Zuko shrugged helplessly, "I suppose it all depends on if he's worth fighting for." He felt an unexplained twinge in his heart at his own words. Yue seemed to feel the same. She looked down at her hands and sniffed.

The silence was broken by the school clock ringing out the hour to the empty building. Class was going to start soon; the students would be filing in any at any moment. "I look like such a mess!" Yue said in a voice husky with unshed tears.

"You could hide in the nurse's office." Zuko suggested what he'd often heard from Mai when she complained about her annoying classmates.

Yue laughed mirthlessly at that. "I forgot you're new," she said. "The nurse's name is Hamma – she's a witch. And I don't ever call people that – except for her it's too true."

"Okay," Zuko nodded nervously, "I'll keep that in mind."

He watched as Yue tried to clean her running mascara and thought that there was no hiding her red, puffy eyes. She definitely looked like she'd been crying.

Zuko felt a bit of sympathy for her then. He himself had always avoided crying or being close to crying in public – he couldn't stand the false sympathies of people who didn't know him or anything about his troubles. He'd already put Yue through the embarrassment of explaining her tears once, the least he could do was help her avoid it happening each time another student entered the room.

"You could sit in the back if you like." He felt a little silly, inviting her to a place anyone could go. "So long as you're okay with sitting by June's mole."

Yue laughed again, this time sounding convincingly amused. "I've actually never seen it up close, but I think moles are cute." She picked up her bag and Zuko led the way to the back row. He felt a little bad when she sat down in Jet's usual seat – like he'd betrayed Jet somehow. It was just a seat right?

Students began to trickle in slowly, the number of students arriving increasing as the first bell loomed nearer.

June sat down and got out her mole. Yue let it sniff her finger and laughed when it sneezed at her. She then started a legitimately friendly (as compared to a falsely polite) conversation with June – who Zuko had never seen talking to anyone.

He felt a pang of sympathy for Sokka; he was about to lose a very sweet girlfriend.

Jet came in late as usual and Zuko ducked his head, feeling a little ashamed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his friend spot his normal seat, taken by Yue. He looked over fully to see Jet scowl a little before taking another of the free seats in the back, on June's other side.

Jet's annoyance didn't go unnoticed by Yue.

"Should I move?" She asked Zuko.

"No, it's fine," Zuko replied. "We kind of had a fight the other day." Zuko felt like he was using Yue to hide from Jet and felt guilty for it.

"I hope you two make up," Yue said kindly.

"We'll talk later."

"When you go up to smoke?"

Zuko must have looked fairly surprised to make Yue laugh like she did. "It's not too hard to see you when the building's only three stories – especially if you lean over the railing."

Zuko felt his ears go pink. He scratched the back of his neck, "I suppose we should stop doing that."

"It might be a good idea. I know Piandao Laoshi has seen you and doesn't care but if anyone else sees – especially Vice Principle Long Feng or Zhao Laoshi – you'll be in big trouble."

Zuko made a mental note to tell Jet they should be more careful.

Class started and Zuko spent the entirety of History trying not to fall asleep. With Yue taking meticulous notes next to him he felt bad every time he nodded off.

During the break between first and second period Sokka popped his head through the door. The usual goofy expression he reserved for visits to Yue fell when he saw she wasn't in her usual place. He quickly scanned the room. Yue, by chance, was under her desk retrieving a pencil at that exact moment. Sokka looked more than a little forlorn as he turned, presumably to go back to his own class. Zuko watched as Yue got out from under her desk and noted her eyes flash nervously to the door. Looks like he wasn't the only one hiding.

Zuko spent most of his second period staring at the board in horror as his confusion mounted until Yue quietly leaned over and wrote out the correct process on his notes. When Zhao inevitably called on him, Zuko found that for once he could figure out the answer.

"Thanks," he mumbled when he sat back down.

Yue smiled, "No problem. I want to be a teacher someday."

Zuko, for no reason, was surprised. "You'll be good at it."

"Thanks," she smiled and he found himself smiling back. Over her shoulder he spotted Jet watching them, his expression unreadable. The grin fell from Zuko's face as his stomach twisted into knots.

When lunch rolled around Zuko and Yue were the last to get up from their seats – they both had to face the music.

"Good luck," Zuko told Yue. He didn't know what she was going to do – but he found that their few hours of 'bonding' made him hope that everything would work out for her.

Jet finished loitering by his desk once he saw that Zuko wasn't leaving and exited the classroom; his shoulders hunched and face unsmiling. Yue looked over at his departing form and turned back to Zuko. "You too."

Zuko was ready. He believed in himself. Apologizing wasn't so hard. But explaining things was. Did he have to explain himself? Yes, of course he did - Jet deserved a decent apology. ' _I can do this'_, he told himself over and over.

He didn't do it.

Instead of apologizing to Jet like a decent person, Zuko crouched in the alley made between the gym and the main school building, beneath the window of the first year's classroom. The window was open, but he'd checked and no one was there to catch him smoking.

He ducked down and took a pull, feeling shittier than usual. Probably because he had made an ass of himself in front of his only friend (and crush), then he'd blown him off, and now he was being too much of a coward to go talk about it.

"Zuko?"

Zuko jumped and hid his cigarette behind his back, thinking he'd been caught - but it was only Toph. She leaned over the open window, her black hair hanging in her face. For one second Zuko wondered how she could see with all her hair in face – then he felt _really_ stupid.

"That's you right, Zuko?"

"Yeah, it's me." Zuko replied, feeling dumb again for not remembering that leaning out the window didn't mean Toph could see him.

"I thought so – I smelled your cigarettes."

"Does everyone know I smoke?" Zuko blurted without thinking.

"Well, I don't think Aang knows." Toph shrugged and Zuko wondered how she'd learned such an expression without her sight. "I know because whenever I sit by you or Jet in club you smell gross."

"Great." Zuko rolled his eyes and just because it didn't matter anyway, took another pull on his cigarette.

"If it makes you feel better, Jet smells worse."

It didn't make him feel better. "His cigarettes are stronger."

"He's gonna kill himself."

Zuko didn't say anything; he'd thought the same thing after he'd seen the tar content in Jet's smokes.

"Are you two fighting?" Toph asked.

"Wha- how did you know?"

"I'm not _blind_," Toph snickered at her own joke. "So are you?"

"Sort of," he admitted reluctantly.

"I thought so; you two are usually joined at the hip."

Zuko felt his ears heat up. What an awful expression that led him to have brief and embarrassing mental images. "We are not," he grumbled.

"Yeah, you are," the blind girl leaned against the side of the window frame and dug her pinky in her ear. "You two are practically a couple."

"No we aren't!"

"Why do you think Katara doesn't like you?"

Zuko knew his ears were red and he could feel his cheeks heating as well. He was glad Toph couldn't see him blushing. "Whatever. We're not a couple."

"Uh huh," Toph quit digging in her ear. "Look, I'm no expert, but you should probably go talk to Jet instead of pussing out over here."

Zuko was stunned that a twelve-year-old – particularly one as small and cute as Toph - would tell him he was 'pussing out'.

"Kyoshi is coming," the girl announced. "You should probably get going."

Zuko didn't question how Toph knew Kyoshi was coming. He was quickly learning how perceptive she really was.

He stomped out his cigarette and left, taking the evidence with him.

From the open window behind him he heard Kyoshi's voice, "Toph, what are you doing here? Wouldn't you rather be outside?"

"I lost my lunch box," Toph replied in a gooey-sweet voice. "Can you help me find it?" Zuko held back a grin. _What a girl._

Zuko made his way to the stairwell and walked up, fully intending to talk to Jet.

The bell rang announcing the end of lunch and his shoulders slumped as he turned to go back to the second floor where his Philosophy class was taught.

Normally Zuko would try to take notes over Jeong Jeong's ramblings of destruction and doom but he was too distracted. He practiced what he would say to Jet over and over until the bell rang again and Zuko made his way to Sign Language.

As soon as he entered the room Zuko spotted Yue sitting three rows back from her usual place. She looked miserable.

"How'd your lunch break go?" Zuko asked, fiddling with the strap of his bag.

Yue looked up at him, her eyes watery. "Sokka didn't take it too well." Zuko frowned in what he hoped was a sympathetic manner. "He wants me to convince my parents not to go through with it." Yue sighed and swept some of her long white hair behind her ear.

"You should try, I mean… I would if I were you." Zuko didn't know if this were true or not, but he knew Yue needed to hear it.

"I want to – but I don't know what good it'll do." She sighed.

Zuko glanced over as he saw Jet come in. Their eyes met for a second before Zuko's eyes fell uncertainly back on Yue. Jet looked away angrily. "You'll regret it if you don't try though." Zuko felt the burning truth and the even more painful hypocrisy in his words.

Yue looked from Zuko to Jet and back. "You're probably right." For no reason Zuko's ears blushed.

"How did your lunch break go?" She smiled uncertainly.

"Not well," Zuko stole a glance at Jet again. "I didn't talk to him at all."

Yue was a lot better at making sympathetic faces than Zuko was. She patted his hand gently then looked left and right very quickly. She leaned in conspiratorially and Zuko felt driven to lean in with her. "Do you like Jet?"

"No!" Zuko replied way too quickly and he realized his whole face was bright red. He'd always been a terrible liar.

Yue laughed at Zuko's reaction - a sweet, feathery giggle. Zuko put on his best scowl but the bright blush on his cheeks did nothing to save his dignity. Yue looked over to Jet very quickly. "He_ is_ cute," she admitted and Zuko tried to sputter in protest. He knew Jet was cute but damned if he was going to admit it!

"Good luck." She smiled and Zuko wanted to shout at her but Combustion Man entered then and he was forced to quickly sit down in the seat next to her. He could feel Jet's glare burning holes into his back.

With all Sign Language projects momentarily forgotten, Jet and Zuko went to club. They didn't speak to each at all.

Piandao tactfully ignored it but the other members shifted uncomfortably, unable to escape the tension coming off their senior members.

To make Zuko feel that much worse, Sokka happened to sit by him. The younger boy didn't look happy.

Toph snuck over to Zuko's side while Jet demonstrated a throw with Piandao. Zuko wondered how she had found him but figured she'd probably just followed her nose (since he smelled so gross and all).

"So I'm guessing you two didn't talk?" She didn't sound like she was guessing.

"Shut up," Zuko scowled at her, despite that she couldn't see it.

"Y'know you're not fitting the teenage-boys-who-smoke stereotype of being a bad ass."

Zuko's frown could go no deeper – _luckily_ Aang popped up beside him then, cell phone in hand. "Want to see my girlfriend?"

"_You_ have a girlfriend?" Toph's tone was generously incredulous.

"Meng!" Aang shoved his cell phone under Zuko's nose. The picture on the screen was of a girl Aang's age with a gap between her teeth and crazy pig-tails that stuck far out from her head.

"She's… cute." Zuko stammered; the word 'cute' felt foreign in his mouth. "I like her hair."

"I do too!" Aang grinned hugely and gave the pixelated picture a loving look before he turned back to his upperclassmen. "She is going to be a fortuneteller!"

Zuko and Toph had identical looks of doubt on their faces, but Aang just laughed. "She is studying under Aunt Wu – the best fortuneteller in my country! One day it will be her job to advise people on what to name their children and tell them if they can expect a good harvest or if they'll get married soon –"

"Hey!" Sokka snapped, sitting near the three of them. "Would you guys hush up and pay attention?"

Aang immediately quieted down and watched the demonstration as Piandao announced all his movements to the class (but most specifically for Toph).

Zuko watched but didn't pay much attention. He looked at Sokka from the corner of his eye. The younger boy wasn't listening either and Zuko thought he appeared depressed to say the least. Zuko found he could relate.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven~

The next day Yue sat by Zuko again, which was fine by him until Jet came through the door. His eyes followed the boy nervously as he made his way across the room to sit on June's other side like he had the day before. He didn't even make eye-contact, though Zuko occasionally would catch the boy glaring at him from the corner of his eye.

'_Great_,' Zuko thought. '_I really pissed him off_.'

It wasn't until math class that Zuko learned that there were people worse at controlling their anger than he was - and that Jet was one of them.

Zhao was stalking around the back of the class when he commented on Jet's wandering gaze. "I realize that Zuko is _incredibly_ interesting," he sneered. "Think you could tear your attentions back to your notes?"

Jet snapped his head around to glare at the teacher. "I know you think Zuko is _incredibly_ interesting. You certainly love to stand behind him and watch him walk up to the board _a lot_. Think you could tear your attentions from his ass?"

If it had been any other teacher Zuko would have died of embarrassment. But it was _Zhao_. Zuko could only watch in a horrified stupor, along with the rest of the class, to see what Zhao's reaction would be. For a moment he sincerely thought Zhao was going to hit him. But instead he grabbed Jet roughly by the back of his sweater and yanked him to his feet.

"I think we should go visit Principal Roku." Zhao snarled through clenched teeth.

As though the class wasn't stunned enough Jet smacked Zhao's hand and pushed him away. There was a collective gasp as Zhao stumbled a little. "I can find it myself." Jet shoved his hands in his pockets and left the room, not hurrying, but not going so slow that Zhao caught up to him as the enraged teacher bolted out the door, following his student to the principal's office.

The class was silent for a moment – but only a moment. There came a sudden burst of chatter as everyone turned to everyone else as if to reconfirm what had just happened.

Yue turned to Zuko, amazement apparent on her face. "No one's ever stood up to Zhao!" She said.

Zuko didn't envy whatever Jet faced with Principal Roku, but he did appreciate in later days that Zhao didn't call on him nearly as much as he had.

Jet was in the office for the rest of math and literature. He finally returned at the very beginning of chemistry. The students buzzed and a couple of them nodded at Jet in approval. The Professor said nothing about Jet's tardiness or the disturbance his arrival caused and Zuko wondered if the other teachers had heard about his outburst – it wasn't like Zhao was popular among them any more than he was with the students.

Jet was in detention during the lunch hour and Zuko felt lonely on the roof, so he spent his break by the first years' classroom again, smoking about three cigarettes and chatting with Toph.

After school found Jet back in detention which made Zuko the club's senior member. He should have skipped. He never realized how much he enjoyed not being the senior member until he became one. Piandao used him to do all the demonstrations. Piandao was a proud man and an excellent martial artist – he didn't hold back at all. Zuko was hit, kicked, thrown, and chocked. He hadn't been so thoroughly beat up since his last day at Sozen Prep's Shaolin Club.

When club finally let out, Zuko changed and marveled over his bruises (which were noticeable enough that Aang felt compelled to poke one – an action Zuko did not appreciate). Tired and sore, he trudged out into the chilling air and wished he'd thought to bring a coat. The weather had no business getting so cold so quickly in the year.

The boy was feeling very pathetic when he was grabbed from behind and dragged away. He was surprised, but he didn't struggle. "I thought you were in detention."

"Long Feng finished brainwashing me so I got out early." Jet said, his arm wrapped around Zuko's neck as he lead him away.

"Lucky you," Zuko felt heat rising to his cheeks. "Look, I've been meaning to talk to you about the other day."

"It's no problem. So, you and Yue are good buddies now right?" Jet sounded a little bitter.

"She's kind of nice actually."

"I've been in the same class as her for six years, I know she's nice."

Now Zuko felt embarrassed _and _stupid. "Are you mad?" He was sure he already knew the answer, but felt like he should ask first anyway.

"No," Jet said unconvincingly. "I just want to show you something."

_A gun, maybe?_

"Are you okay?" Zuko asked, his voice muffled against the sleeve of Jet's sweater.

Jet stopped suddenly and Zuko almost stumbled into him.

"I need a smoke," he said. "Join me?"

Zuko had a feeling that Jet was more upset than he was trying to let on. "Sure."

Jet let Zuko go and the two walked and smoked, Jet leading the way. He seemed much calmer once he took a few deep breaths of smoke filled air. Zuko watched as the line of his shoulders fell, relaxing.

When he thought it was safe to ask he spoke again, "Where are we going?"

"My old stomping grounds."

Jet's old stomping grounds were far away and the air was getting colder with every passing moment. Zuko wished they'd taken the bus but he doubted Jet had the money for it anyway. They wandered farther and the buildings began to grow shorter and shabbier. Zuko heard dogs barking and babies crying from inside houses with paper-thin walls. Two stray cats ran in front of them, swiping and spitting at one another.

A stereotype of a poor neighborhood if Zuko had ever seen one.

He followed Jet to a house. It was larger than the other homes he'd seen, but far more dilapidated. The sidewalk was cracked with grass and weeds sprouting between the faded slabs. The yard itself was devoid of life, just lots of dead grass and a towering oak that had its branches cut off. The front door's green paint was pealing and holes marked the multiple places where a sign had been nailed over the years. The battle to hang the sign had apparently been surrendered; instead it was propped up against the wall next to the door, a potted flower sitting beside it. In freshly painted letters the sign read, 'Pei Yang Home for Children.'

Zuko looked the building over with a new eye. This was essentially an orphanage.

No wonder Jet lived alone.

It took Zuko a moment to realize that Jet was watching him, gaging his reaction. Zuko met his eyes and whatever Jet saw there, he spoke, "It's kind of falling apart now – but it's not so bad inside."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Jet sounded partly curious, partly defensive.

"I just am." Zuko scuffed his shoe on the steps. Surprisingly, Jet's face split into a wry smile and Zuko felt his ears blush and his heart jump; he hadn't realized how much he'd missed that smile.

"Jet!"

Jet turned, his grin growing as a boy marched up the sidewalk looking very annoyed. "Hey, Bee."

"I thought you said you quit!" Jet glanced down in surprise at the cigarette in his hand before the boy snatched it away and threw it on the ground, smearing it beneath his shoe for good measure. "You're gonna give yourself cancer." He scowled; Jet only grinned and took the boy's shoulders, turning him to Zuko.

"Bee, this is my friend Zuko. Zuko, this lovely lady is Smellerbee."

For a moment Zuko thought Jet was kidding around, but then he noticed Smellerbee's soft cheeks and full lips. He could just believe she was a girl. "Uh, hi." He realized he'd taken too long to reply. "So… Smellerbee? That's an interesting name. What's it from?"

Smellerbee frowned, her dark lips puckered. "It's a nickname, my name's Mi Feng – but don't call me that."

"Everybody around here's got a nickname," Jet laughed.

"What's yours?" Zuko asked.

"Jet Li." Jet waggled his eyebrows and Smellerbee's eye-roll mirrored Zuko's thoughts.

Jet and Smellerbee brought Zuko inside. Jet hadn't lied; Pei Yang was cleaner and a little nicer looking on the inside - but not by much. The two led him to the living room, a large space with a stained carpet and lots of lumpy couches. There, Zuko met three more of Jet's old friends, Xiao, Gong Jue, and Wan Quan (or as Jet affectionately called them: Pipsqueak, the Duke, and Longshot).

The gang joked about people Zuko didn't know and reminisced over their games of defeating neighborhood tyranny as the 'Freedom Fighters''. Zuko was left out of most of the conversations, but he listened with interest and amusement. It was fun to hear about Jet from people who knew him so well.

It was getting very late when Jet and Zuko finally left the home. They walked hunched and close together, trying to keep the cold from their bones. The quiet, night streets didn't seem like a good time or place to talk but Jet did.

"My parent's died in a fire. I was eight."

"I'm sorry." Zuko didn't know what to say, but it sounded as though Jet was having a hard time saying this - like it wasn't something he told a lot of people.

"It was really hot and dry that summer – our house went up so quickly. One second I was asleep and the next everything was on fire." Like he'd just been reminded Jet pulled out his lighter and his pack. Zuko said nothing; Jet wasn't finished. "All these firefighters rushed in and grabbed me and pulled me out. I told them where my parents were but they said the building wasn't safe to enter."

"They didn't go in?" Zuko asked in surprise.

"Isn't it ridiculous? They'll run into a burning building but if it might fall on them they won't do it." Jet lit up and took a long pull on his cigarette. "I was eight and I was ready to run in there."

Zuko could sense Jet was holding a grudge. "They were probably doing what they thought was best."

Jet's eyes flashed black with anger but Zuko didn't let him speak. "My cousin, my uncle Iroh's son, was a firefighter. He was clearing an unsafe house and a piece of the ceiling fell on him. It smashed his mask and the smoke killed him." Zuko watched the smoldering tip of Jet's cigarette and resisted the urge to light one up himself.

Jet was frowning down at the smoke curling around his hand and exhaled deeply. "Would've been nice if someone had gone in to save him."

Zuko didn't know what to say. He'd never thought to force the blame on others. Every major event in his life was either his fault or no ones'. "It would've been nice," he agreed. "I'm sure my uncle would be much happier if Lu Ten was still alive, but he's gone and placing blame or getting angry won't help anything. If my uncle blamed people or was mad he'd just be a bitter old man and instead he's… well, you know."

"He's a nice guy," Jet mumbled.

"Yeah."

The night was clear and the stars were just visible. As they passed into the nicer part of town the streetlights grew more frequent and the stars became harder and harder to see. The two boys kept walking, their shoulders touching, hands stuffed in pockets to keep them warm.

Eventually Jet spoke again, "Are you going to tell me?"

"What?" Zuko asked, surprised.

"Are you going to tell me about what your sister was talking about?"

"What? No!"

"I told you about my parents," Jet said – like exchanging personal information was the most logical thing for a person to do.

"That was very nice of you, but I didn't agree to tell you anything just because you told me something." Zuko snapped, pulling away so their shoulders no longer touched.

Jet's face drew into a tight frown and Zuko burned inside. Jet was such a confident person but even he must have felt uncomfortable chatting about his parent's death. Zuko tried not to think of it. He didn't want to think of what Jet was feeling, didn't want to think of him in pain. Zuko couldn't tell him the truth – his father had forbidden it and besides that, Zuko didn't think he was strong enough to disagree with all the things Jet would likely say about him and his family if he did tell the truth.

Jet reached out and took Zuko's hand. Not his arm. His _hand_. "Zuko—"

Zuko jerked away, his whole face flushed hotly. "I don't have to tell you anything." He snapped one final time before he hurried away.

He was going the wrong direction and he would get lost later, but he didn't care. He could only think of Jet's face as he told him about his parent's dying. How somber he'd looked. Then he remembered the look on Jet's face when Zuko pulled away, when Zuko had basically thrown the good faith shown him out of the window. Jet looked so surprised, so hurt.

Zuko's heart squeezed in his chest but he forced himself to feel the real world. The cold seeped through his sweater and no amount of smoke could heat his insides. He lost the feeling in his fingers and toes and still – _still_ – he couldn't forget the sensation of heat when Jet had took Zuko's hand in his.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight~

The next day it was no surprise when Zuko got sick. Iroh fussed over him like a mother hen, always getting up to get medicine, to make tea, to make a cold compress, to get more blankets. There were threats of his uncle staying home for the day, but Zuko managed to talk him out of it. He felt like a hostage negotiator. At least his uncle cared, which was sort of nice – but also sort of annoying.

Zuko spent the day sleeping and watching bad soap operas on television.

Iroh came home early Zuko felt guilty for being a burden, but his uncle seemed quite happy to tend to him.

Somewhere in the fog of sickness induced coma his uncle came in his room and told him that some of his schoolmates had come to visit. Zuko tried to rouse himself quickly. It couldn't be Jet. He didn't want it to be Jet. _ 'D_amn.' He kind of wanted it to be Jet.

"Zuko!" Aang popped through the door. "We came to see how you are doing!"

Zuko tried not to groan aloud but couldn't help an inward cry of anguish. '_Why Aang?'_

"Sorry Zuko. I couldn't stop him." Toph said apologetically as she trudged in, guiding herself with a hand on the wall.

We brought you the best food for when you are sick." Aang announced, pulling something from his bag and showing it to Zuko.

"A miso soup packet?"

Aang laughed heartily, "No, it's instant miso soup. This is my main food that I eat since I came to this country."

With Iroh's consent Aang borrowed a pot in the kitchen and boiled water to make the soup – which Zuko thought defeated the purpose of it being 'instant'. Iroh and Toph sat in Zuko's bedroom, keeping him company by chatting with each other and ignoring him hacking and sniffling.

His uncle left them alone when Aang had finished and it was good that he did.

Aang poured some hot water in a mug he must have retrieved from the kitchen and then pulled another packet from his backpack. A tea bag. Iroh would not approve.

Then he pulled out an individual's packet of coffee creamer and added it to the tea!

Iroh would've died.

Zuko wouldn't admit it to Aang but he did feel a lot better after eating the soup and the tea - even though it was nowhere near as good as the kind his uncle made (but who could expect that?). Aang and Toph talked about school. Teo had managed to pop a wheelie in his wheelchair for the first time. Toph said it was a sight to see and Aang showed Zuko some of the pictures of the event on his phone. Sokka had been the club's senior since Jet was still in detention. He fell on his butt more than he fell the correct way and Piandao couldn't get the club fully under control afterwards; they were having too much fun.

When Aang and Toph finally left, Zuko was ready to pass out. Two hours straight of being awake was too much.

Iroh came in to force one last dose of medicine on him. He had a knowing smile on his face. "You have some nice friends."

Zuko scowled, partly at his uncle and partly because he was swallowing cherry flavored cough syrup. "They're not really my friends; we're just in club together."

Iroh just kept on smiling as he took the medicine cup back from Zuko. "Still, they came to visit you and made you soup – they must be fine people."

Zuko sighed and pulled his covers up, hoping his uncle would take the hint that he wanted to sleep. Iroh stood, understanding. He ruffled his nephew's hair, "You'll have to thank them tomorrow."

The crash diet of medicine, soup, and tea worked wonders. Zuko was back in school the next day, sniffling a little, but otherwise healthy.

Yue asked Zuko how he was feeling and he muttered something in reply. They sat next to each other and were visited by Sokka and Katara, who both wished Zuko well. Sokka said he'd missed him in club and Katara laughed.

The siblings didn't seem to be able to speak to Yue for long periods without awkward silences or tension arising. Between the three of them and the fact that Jet was avoiding Zuko again, Zuko found the morning unbearable.

Zuko didn't see Jet during lunch or club – he was in detention for the rest of the week. The few times the two of them were together - standing in line for bread, passing by the bathroom - they didn't speak. It was alarming, not because Jet seemed angry (he didn't seem terribly torn or sad either, thank God), but because Jet didn't seem to feel anything at all. He ignored Zuko as dispassionately as the rest of their classmates.

Zuko felt like the world was caving in around him. He couldn't stand to think of it, but he knew Yue was right. He wanted to be with Jet. He was going crazy.

Yue was Zuko's distraction and he was hers. They talked about everything, but always avoided speaking of Jet, Sokka, or Yue's arranged marriage. These discussions were often fleeting, in between classes and sometimes during lunch when Zuko smoked more and more until he reeked. Of course, while the week seemed long, it wasn't really.

On Friday Yue told Zuko she was moving.

"Why?" He asked, although he suspected the reason.

"My parents want me to get closer to my fiancé." Yue sighed, putting her elbow on her desk and her chin in her hand. "But they also want to make sure I'll obey them." She looked at him, her eyes sad. "They said that if I keep acting up I'll embarrass them – and they don't like Sokka at all. They say he's poor and not good enough for me. There's nothing I can do."

Zuko couldn't help but think that Yue could run away – but that was Jet speaking through him. Zuko could relate to Yue, he knew how hard it could be to please your parents. He knew what it felt like to be considered an embarrassment.

"When are you leaving?"

"Today, after school."

Zuko's good eyebrow rose.

"They want to make sure I won't try to run off. They didn't even tell me until this morning."

"Geez," Zuko let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"I am too." Yue let her hands fall to her lap and glanced across the room to Jet. "I hope you don't have to go through anything like this, Zuko. You're really sweet under all your angst."

Zuko was pretty sure Jet had said almost the exact same thing once.

"Just," she glanced at Jet again and Zuko didn't miss it. "Don't let yourself have regrets okay?"

Zuko didn't know what he should say. "Okay."

Zuko felt gloomier than usual when he went home that evening. He hadn't been paying attention in club and forgot to tuck his chin when he landed. After he'd stopped seeing stars Piandao told him to take a break. Zuko tried to crawl to a place by the dojo's wall without letting on that he wasn't able to stand. He heard Katara laughed at him and was tempted to call her out on it – she always laughed when he messed up – but he let it drop. He didn't have the energy to fight.

Sokka had looked awful.

Perhaps Zuko was still sick, perhaps he'd suffered a mild concussion, but as soon as he got back home he collapsed on the lumpy living room couch and crashed. He woke later when Iroh came home, then promptly fell asleep again.

Sometime later he awoke with the smell of tea filling the apartment. His whole body felt pleasantly warm and he realized that his uncle had draped a blanket over him. As his mind cleared of the fogs of sleep he sat up and rubbed his eyes, the burnt skin feeling smooth under his rough fingers.

"Good evening Zuko," Iroh said cheerfully when he noticed that his nephew had woken. "How was your nap?"

"Fine."

Iroh made his way over to his nephew and handed him a cup of tea. "Long day?"

"My friend moved away." As soon as he said it Zuko couldn't believe he had. He _never _talked to Iroh.

"Not Jet?" Iroh asked, sounding genuinely upset for some reason.

"No, not Jet." 

If Iroh was surprised that Zuko had more than one person he called a friend he didn't let it show.

"It's sad when people leave," Iroh said, obviously about to tell Zuko some wisdom (he had this_ tone_). "But you can see them again if you like, and if you can't, then at least you have your memories."

Zuko didn't have many memories of Yue, other than the single week they'd been friends and all the other times when she sat at the front of the class and took notes. They hadn't known each other very well, yet Zuko felt oddly sad about her leaving - some nameless thing tugged at him.

"Her parents arranged a marriage for her, her boyfriend was … upset."

"She must have been very afraid to displease her parents." Iroh's expression had gone from sympathetic to observant, gaging his nephew's reaction. Zuko sipped his tea and looked away, focusing on the decorative table by the living room TV and the photographs sitting there.

"They're her parents. They have expectations," he said lamely as his eyes roamed over the pictures.

"I think she might be happier if she found her own path. Don't you?" Zuko wasn't sure Iroh was talking about Yue anymore.

"But she couldn't turn her back—"

"It's not turning your back so much as it is letting go. We all have things that hold us back, that tie us to our pasts, but we cannot let them keep us there or we won't be able to make a future for ourselves." Iroh sat down next to Zuko. "When you came to live here I had to clean out Lu Ten's room for you."

Zuko hadn't known that.

"It is hard to let things go, but in my experience, it can be worth it." He put his hand on Zuko's shoulder, fatherly and alien.

Zuko was quelled – what could he say? How could he argue with his uncle, who'd lost so much? Suddenly Zuko felt bad; he was a crummy replacement for Lu Ten.

Zuko could also feel something else rising inside him. He thought of Yue telling him to avoid regrets. How Iroh must have hurt so badly when he had to clear out Lu Ten's room and now he just had Zuko. Did he regret it? Did Lu Ten have any regrets as he lay dying?

Iroh had stood and gone back to the kitchen, politely leaving his nephew to his thoughts for the moment.

Zuko came to suddenly. He finished his tea in one big gulp and got up to set his cup next to the kitchen sink where Iroh was washing dishes. "I'm going out for a bit," he announced.

"You might want to comb your hair first – you have bedhead."

Zuko felt his hair and found his hair was sticking up _a lot_. How could Iroh have had a serious conversation with him? He ducked down the hallway to the bathroom. As soon as he saw his hair he couldn't help but blurt out, "I look like Astro Boy!" Back in the kitchen he heard Iroh burst into laughter.

Jet was definitely surprised to see Zuko at his door – especially since it was going on nine and the sun was already set. Zuko was still wearing his school uniform and it wasn't warm enough for the evening air. His breath came in clouds as he stood before his friend.

"Zuko!"

"I have to talk to you." Zuko said, trying to keep his voice steady, determined.

Jet was silent, clearly thrown off guard. "_Now_?"

"Yes," Zuko said. '_Determination, determination_.' "Sorry."

"It's okay." Jet half chuckled, "Do you want to come in?"

Jet's apartment seemed warm and the smell of his cigarette smoke wafted out invitingly. "No," Zuko shook his head. "I just have to say something quick – but you have to promise not to tell anyone. He remembered his first crush, 'I won't tell anyone' and shook the thought from his mind.

Jet was still off guard and now he was suspicious. "I promise." He didn't sound like he had a lot of conviction behind his words – but he'd said them and that was all Zuko needed.

"My sister – what she was talking about – my father isn't abroad, he's in the capitol. He's a politician and he sent me away because-" Zuko licked his lips and swallowed hard. "Because he hurt me. He gave me this scar and he was afraid that people would find out it was him that did it." Zuko was speaking quickly now, Jet's eyes were wide, a deep frown pulling at his mouth. Zuko tried to ignore him and finish what he needed to say.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you when you first asked and I'm sorry I freaked out on you the other day and I'm _really_ sorry I didn't tell you when you took me to the home – I wasn't supposed to – my father can't let this get out and … and I was afraid."

Zuko looked down at his shoes. He couldn't feel his toes it was so cold. He shuffled his feet a little.

"That's," Jet said at length. "Shitty."

Zuko snorted, '_What an understatement_.'

"You okay?"

Zuko shrugged and forced himself to look up at Jet. To his embarrassment Jet was looking at his scar. He looked away again.

"Is that why you don't like it when people are on that side?"

"I can't see so well out my left eye that's all." But that was only partly true. "I don't like people staring." He glanced up and saw Jet look away guiltily.

"Sorry," Jet said. He met Zuko's eyes then. "I don't think anyone thinks it's bad though."

Zuko was about to protest but Jet cut him off. "A lot of girls at school think you're hot – trust me. And don't say you don't agree because you don't even pay attention to the girls at our school."

"Oh, yeah," Zuko said sarcastically. "They all hang out in my blind spot," he indicated his left side, "and make googley eyes at me."

"Exactly!" Jet laughed. It had been so long since Zuko had heard him really laugh. How had he ever gone without it?

Jet shook his head. "I can't believe you used the word 'googley'."

Zuko couldn't help but crack a smile, just because Jet was with him and talking to him and laughing with him. He could almost convince himself this was enough, but he thought of Yue. '_No regrets_.'

"I have something else I have to say." He said, his smile fading as his heart flew to his mouth.

Jet's smile dimmed, his mood sobered by Zuko's serious tone.

Zuko licked his lips again and focused. It was cold; he could smell cigarettes and Jet. He heard his own heart beating. He couldn't say it.

It burst out of him anyway.

"Jet, I like you."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine~

Zuko waited - for what, he didn't know. An acknowledgement would be nice, maybe a thank you at least? Jet was more thrown than Zuko had ever seen him.

The moment stretched on and Zuko felt a blush grow until his whole body felt like it was red. He kept looking at Jet's stunned face – his last handhold on sanity – but Jet was giving no reaction and Zuko was slipping. He couldn't have felt more exposed than if he'd been naked.

Zuko swallowed hard. "That's all I wanted to say." He waited a beat, then turned, trying to gather up the pride he'd just splattered everywhere as he walked away.

With each step he imagined Jet calling after him, reaching for him like he usually did, gently grasping Zuko's upper arm, and pulling Zuko towards him to tell him something ridiculous. With each step another moment past and Jet was silent. Zuko kept going, eventually turning a street corner and out of Jet's sight.

Zuko couldn't run, he didn't have the energy – but he wanted to. He couldn't believe he'd actually said it. He couldn't decide if he regretted it or not. He pinched the bridge of his nose, everything felt so messed up. He'd figure it out later.

It was late when Zuko finally stumbled through the apartment door. He kicked off his shoes, not putting them away like he normally did.

Iroh had sat up for him. The older man was sitting on the living room couch watching the news and sipping tea, same as usual. He looked over as Zuko came in, "I've been thinking we might want to get a cellphone for you," he said conversationally. "You stay out so late sometimes, I worry you know."

"I'm sorry," Zuko mumbled.

Iroh stood up quickly like Zuko had told him someone had died. "You look awful! What happened?"

Zuko looked at his uncle's concerned face. His father never had looked so alarmed on Zuko's behalf. '_Of course not_,' part of Zuko told him. '_He didn't look very alarmed when half your face got melted off_.'

Iroh came up to Zuko then, trying to look him in the eye, but Zuko just looked down at the floor. "I got rejected," he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"What?"

"I got rejected," Zuko said, louder, almost shouting down to his shoes. "By someone I liked."

"Oh," Iroh squeezed his shoulder. "I'm sorry my nephew."

Zuko was expecting some advice on how he should move on, or see the good side of things, or some crap like that. Instead, Iroh clapped his shoulder gently. "I'll make you some noodles."

Zuko sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea in his hands. Iroh bumbled around the kitchen for a while before finally finishing his creation and setting a bowl of steaming ramen in front of his nephew. Zuko ate wordlessly, the food was too hot – but it felt solid and real and warm. He started to feel better.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Zuko shrugged and slurped his noodles.

Iroh didn't pry, just refilled Zuko's tea and made him more noodles, then made some for himself. The two sat, not talking about anything, just slurping and sipping until Zuko could barely keep his head up from sleeplessness.

Zuko collapsed into bed without changing, feeling warm and full. He was dimly aware of Iroh coming into his room and pulling his blanket up around him – but then he was gone, deep in oblivion.

The next morning Zuko had a headache. Iroh called it a grief hangover and told Zuko he used to get them himself when he was young after all the times he'd had to dump a girl (because he'd been so popular back in the day). Zuko suppressed a wry laugh at the thought and reminded himself that Iroh had been young once. Maybe even thin. Maybe even beardless.

He spent most of his morning in bed, feeling glum, trying not to think of Jet, and wanting ice-cream terribly. Iroh would probably get him some if he asked, but Zuko figured he'd been enough of a burden. Besides which, though he didn't usually worry too much about such things, he was acutely aware that he had eaten a lot of sodium and carbohydrates (ramen) the night before and then went straight to bed. Completely unhealthy. Ice cream could wait.

Zuko finally got bored enough to roll out of bed and was commending himself on handling his rejection well (or so he believed) when he opened the bedroom door and heard, out of all things in the world, Jet's voice.

Zuko's first reaction was elation, rapidly followed by intense dread and then replaced even faster by disbelief. Jet wasn't here. He could still hear Jet's voice – in the living room of all places – but Zuko was quite sure it was part of his imagination. He had gone mad with grief. In a few seconds his uncle would come in and find him catatonic.

Still, no harm in listening…

Iroh had been making breakfast – something simple since Zuko wasn't feeling well.

He was surprised by the knock on the door and even more so when he saw it was Jet.

Jet looked tired and disheveled, his hair messier than usual and his eyes a little too bleary.

"Is Zuko home?"

"Yes," Iroh blinked, surprised at Jet's serious, strained tone. "But he isn't doing so well, he had a bad night."

Jet's shoulders slumped, "Oh," he sighed. "That was kind of my fault."

"He went to see you last night?" Iroh's eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah." Jet scratched his forehead self-consciously and Iroh realized his own rudeness.

"Would you like to come in?"

"Hm? Oh. Sure." Jet wandered into the apartment like Iroh's shadow, quiet and gloomy. The older man poured two cups of tea and beckoned Jet over to the table. "You look like you had a rough night too."

"Well, yeah," Jet looked away. "I kind of … was an ass—" he stopped and looked at Iroh, blushing a bit, "I mean, a _jerk_ to Zuko last and—"

"You feel badly?"

"Yeah." Jet looked down at his hands.

"Sometimes people make mistakes," Iroh shrugged. "Apologize, make up for it. Zuko isn't the type to hold a grudge."

"No, he's a good guy."

"He's a wonderful young man," Iroh smiled knowingly. "Why don't I go see if he's up?" He set down his tea and stood to go to Zuko's room.

"No!" Jet nearly shouted. "I… I don't want to wake him. Maybe I'll come by later." He looked down at his hands again, blushing at his own nervousness. Iroh just nodded in understanding.

"Would you like some breakfast?" Iroh switched subjects beautifully.

Jet was afraid that Zuko would wake up and all of his plans for how they would talk would go out the window. "I have to go actually, but thank you." Of course Iroh wouldn't let Jet leave with grace. The boy escaped a few moments later, laden with a Tupperware full of pumpkin bread muffins.

Iroh tried his best not to look amused when he went to his nephew's room and found him listening at the door. "Your friend Jet was here," he said discretely.

"Oh." Zuko's voice was unnecessarily high.

"I think he wanted to talk to you – maybe you could visit him later."

Zuko wanted a cigarette. "Yeah," he said hollowly, "I could."

Iroh forced his nephew to eat a bunch of muffins before he could finally escape for a smoke break. Zuko was a little sad to let the soft, sweet taste of breakfast be replaced by the hard bitter flavor of smoke, but he needed it to be calm.

He wandered to the park, smoking all the way and not caring who saw. He walked through the entrance and headed for his and Jets' bench. He was lost in thought remembering all the times they'd come to the park together.

He thought of the first time one of the children who frequented the playground said hello to them - Jet had started asking them if they wanted candy, if they wanted to see a puppy, if they'd like to take a ride in his big white van with no windows. The babysitter came over and they had to leave quickly. Zuko grinned at the memory before he realized he was creepily smiling to himself.

Then there was the time Jet had launched himself off their bench and into a puddle, soaking Zuko thoroughly. Another time they'd switched cigarettes and Zuko had choked over Jet's while Jet complained that Zuko's were too bland. He could still see Jet before him, holding his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, sticking his tongue out as he told Zuko he could never smoke this stuff.

Zuko was so lost in thought that he was taken by surprise when, not three feet from their bench, he saw that Jet was sitting on it.

They noticed each other at the same moment.

Zuko's face and ears turned bright red. He looked away and missed Jet's matching blush. There was a horrendously awkward silence that Zuko was too afraid to break. He was considering turning and walking away when Jet finally spoke,

"I stopped by your place earlier."

"Yeah," Zuko replied lamely, "my uncle told me."

Jet scooted over and patted the place next to him; Zuko's place. Zuko looked at him, a question in his eyes. "You came to smoke didn't you?" Jet asked, trying to get back in conversation (he'd forgotten whatever plan he'd had for this talk).

"I already had a smoke," Zuko said quietly.

"I'll stand then," Jet popped up from his seat and tried to cover his embarrassment with his typical confidence. He leaned on one leg and flicked his cigarette into a trash can before he crossed his arms.

Zuko couldn't help but think he'd lost the entirety of his confidence the night before.

"Okay, so I'm sorry I was so stupid yesterday. I just, well, I froze up – obviously! I was just surprised." Jet apologized but Zuko didn't say anything in reply – he was too busy wishing he could sink through a hole in the ground. Somehow Jet's silence the night before seemed a hundred times more desirable than the actual, verbal rejection he knew was coming.

"I'm sorry." Jet said again, reaching out to Zuko's hands and holding them in his own.

Zuko hadn't realized how chilly the morning was until Jet's hands were on his; suddenly he felt cold and Jet felt so warm.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am," Jet went on. He was quiet for a moment. "Say something please Zuko." His tone was so unconfident, Zuko couldn't bear it.

He swallowed hard and starred down at his hands. He could feel a sinking feeling in his stomach, his heart was breaking. Some absurd twinge was happening at the corner of his eyes. He looked up at Jet, because he knew if any tears came to his eyes they would be less likely to fall if he looked up. "Its fine, I forgive you."

Jet's shoulder's sagged in relief and he smiled weakly. "Great!"

Zuko tried to smile in reply but couldn't quite manage it.

"I have something else I have to say," Jet's tone went serious and he squeezed Zuko's hands tightly. "Zuko, I like you too."

Zuko's mind went black. First thought: 'It's a trap.' Second: "What?"

"I like you!" Jet said louder – smiling widely now. "I know I have for a while – which was why last night I was _extra_ stupid." He rolled his eyes at himself. "But after I snapped out of it I couldn't wait to come tell you." He grinned, pride and happiness pouring out of him.

Zuko still couldn't believe that he wasn't being conned.

Then Jet leaned forward, and his lips met Zuko's. He pulled back a bit and their eyes met. He smiled and kissed Zuko again, longer, deeper. Zuko could feel Jet grinning into the kiss and found he was smiling in response.

His heart soured as Jet moved his arms from Zuko's hands to his waist. Zuko wrapped his hands around the boy's neck and didn't care if anyone saw them, didn't mind the bitter cigarette flavor on Jet's breath, didn't feel the cold – the only things that mattered were Jet's warm arms around him and their lips, soft and damp, locked together until breathlessness drove them apart. Then all that remained was the gentle sound of their breathing in the chill, autumn air.

There were people in the park that morning. Some were jogging; a few elderly folks were bird-walking. A couple saw Zuko and Jet and looked away, either embarrassed or amused. One individual, a young woman, was passing by the area. Her gold eyes glanced over the people enjoying their Saturday morning, a cold scorn evident on her face. Her eyes glossed over Jet and Zuko, then returned when she realized they were both boys. And she recognized one of them.

The girl turned and went back the other way, a smirk on her lips. Her father had sent her to check on her brother, and she had. Azula smiled, father would love to hear about this.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten~

Zuko had always thought the expression 'walking on air' was stupid. But that day with Jet he felt like he was flying. His steps were light, he had butterflies in his stomach, and everything looked bright and sunny. He'd be damned if he let Jet know how crazy he was feeling – but he could barely hide it. Every time he looked at the other boy he felt ridiculously happy. Jet would grin at him and he couldn't stop his own smile from forming.

They left the park and wandered into the shopping district where they milled through a bookstore, compared the ugliest CD covers they could find at the music store, and stared in awe (or for Zuko, horror) at a mountainous display of Hello Kitty.

"I can think of so many people who would love this." Jet said sarcastically as he straightened the dress of a plushy.

"Toph?" Zuko smiled as Jet laughed.

"And Smellerbee."

"She does seem the Hello Kitty type."

Jet laughed again.

Strangely Zuko found that he and Jet were acting almost the same as they usually did, except that they were continuously touching one another. Inside stores, when they showed things to one another, they would lean closer than was necessary. Outside in the cold they walked shoulder to shoulder, holding hands and ignoring the occasional judgmental glance from passersby.

Zuko reluctantly agreed to go clothes shopping – mainly because he hadn't dressed for the weather (as usual) and was beginning to feel that Jet's warmth was the only thing standing between him and frostbite (for about one minute Zuko let Jet unzip his jacket so he could be Zuko's human coat, tucking Zuko under his chin with warm arms around him – but as embarrassingly happy as he was feeling there was a limit to what Zuko's pride would allow).

They entered a shop with fashionably disturbing manikins poised in its windows. Jet out a soft 'oh' as he saw something interesting, then pulled Zuko over to a pair of skinny jeans. He pulled the pants down from the wall hanging and turned to Zuko. "No," Zuko said before the boy could ask.

"But they would accentuate your hind features!" He waggled his eyebrows.

"Wha—"

"You think I saw nothing in the locker room?"

Zuko blushed a furious red and Jet laughed. "Be proud you have a nice ass."

Zuko couldn't go any redder. "Could you say that any louder?" He hissed through his teeth.

"YOU HAVE A NICE—" Zuko slapped a hand over Jet's mouth before the other, now staring, customers could hear more than they needed to.

The two had fun for a little while, finding random things like fuzzy purple ear-muffs, sparkling gloves, lady's hose, and the shade of nail polish that best matched Zuko's eyes. Finally Jet found something that he seemed to legitimately want Zuko to try on.

"It's cute!" Jet waggled the article of clothing in front of his embarrassed companion.

"It doesn't have sleeves." Zuko noted as he looked at the offending object.

"It's a vest," Jet told him, "with a fur hood. A vest with fur!"

"I can see that."

"You're going to try it on," Jet grinned evilly and took Zuko's hand to lead him off towards the back where the changing rooms were, grabbing a shirt off a display as he went. "If only they had striped shirts and goggles – we'd make a Matt out of you. And I shall be your Melo – except Melo's on bottom … and he has the scar. Maybe I should be Matt?"

"What are you even talking about?"

Jet shook his head in mock despair, "So uncultured."

Zuko frowned and Jet poked the tip of his nose playfully, purposefully being annoying. "Anyone ever tell you you're cute when you're grumpy?"

Zuko was about to reply but was abruptly shoved into a changing room.

"Want me to come in with you?" Jet leaned casually against the doorframe, grinning wolfishly. The idea of being in an enclosed space with Jet while in a state of undress was an appealing one, but on the other hand this was a changing room. Decision made, Zuko snatched the clothes from the other boy and closed the door.

"You got to let me see before you change out of it!" Jet said, speaking a little loudly so his voice would carry over the stall door.

"What's the point of shopping for clothes when we wear uniforms every day?" Zuko grumbled to himself.

"Because you aren't going to be wearing a school uniform for the rest of your life?" Apparently it wasn't so hard to be heard through the door.

Zuko pulled off his sweater and pulled on the shirt Jet had found.

"Speaking of," Jet started. "What are you planning to do after school?"

"Go to more school." Zuko picked up the vest delicately; he'd never worn one with a zipper before. _Zip._ How convenient! "What are you going to do?" He waited to hear Jet's response; this seemed like a very important question.

"Same. My parents left a boat-load for my education – so I might as well."

"What are you going to do afterwards?"

"I was thinking of being a policeman."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, I like to help people out and I'm not smart enough to be a doctor or anything. I definitely don't want to be a fireman – no offense to your cousin. So yeah, policeman."

"But you're such a delinquent!"

"I just act this way 'cause girls like it."

Zuko rolled his eye (he wouldn't admit how much _he_ liked that Jet's bad boy behavior) and opened the door. He felt stupid for wearing anything with fur on the collar.

Jet was leaning against the door to the changing room. He turned when Zuko came out and smiled a blinding, beautiful smile. Zuko was momentarily dazzled.

"This thing is ridiculous," he snapped himself back to reality. "Why have a furry collar when your arms are bare?"

"That's the point! It's a vest with fur! It's a contradiction!" Jet admitted with a grin. "But you have the long sleeves to keep your arms warm." He stepped forward and gently took the edges of the fluffy hood in his hands and pulled the material close around Zuko's neck. "Besides, this way you don't need a scarf."

Zuko felt warm but only half because of the vest. Jet saw him blushed and a ghost of a smile crept onto his features. He leaned in, pulling Zuko toward him and their lips touched in a soft kiss.

Zuko liked shopping.

Before Zuko knew it the two had wandered over to his uncle's teashop.

They sat down at the plain wooden tables and Jet looked around, admiring the jade colored walls and the nostalgic smells of a well-loved home. Zuko had long gotten used to it. He had come to consider the Jasmine Dragon as a reincarnation of his uncle in building form – they were both calming, warm, and full of tea.

Iroh spotted them from the kitchen window and hurried out to offer them some of his best tea – free of charge of course. "I'm glad to see you two have made amends." He chatted amiably as he poured them each a drink.

Jet grinned, his cheeks pink from the cold outside. "We just had to talk things out."

'_Then make out_,' Zuko thought but did not say.

"Zuko, are those new clothes?"

Zuko unzipped his vest a bit. "Yeah," he felt a little self-conscious.

"You look so handsome." Iroh ruffled his hair fondly. Self-consciousness gone, Zuko fixed his hair with a scowl.

"He's always handsome," Jet said unabashedly, looking straight at Zuko as he said it. He grinned evilly when the boy's face flushed with embarrassment.

Iroh chuckled and his belly heaved. "Of course! How foolish of me, you're right." The old man went and brought them some cakes to eat with their tea, then got back to work.

The two sat and chatted like they always did; speaking of nothing. Jet would talk and Zuko wouldn't understand or wouldn't know what to say – they'd both end up amused.

Zuko refused any public displays of affection – coming down off his high he was embarrassed about all the touching he and Jet had done in public already. He wasn't _sorry_ for the touching – but he was embarrassed about their audience.

Luckily Jet was innovative – once he realized Zuko wouldn't hold his hand while in his uncle's teashop he went for a more subtle approach. The two boys touched feet under the table. Jet would stroke his foot up Zuko's calf under the pretense of crossing his leg. He reached for Zuko's knee and received an amusing, albeit unexpected, reaction as Zuko flushed and clapped his hands over his mouth to keep from laughing.

"Your knees are ticklish?"

"Shut up!"

"You're adorable."

When they'd had all the tea and cakes and attention from Iroh that they could stand they left the shop and headed back to the park, only instead of smoking as their usual habit, the two sat and talked.

Jet held Zuko's hands and they huddled together to keep out the cold (most certainly _not_ snuggling). Jet told Zuko stories, how he'd been arrested for shoplifting once and how he'd been the one who'd graffitied 'Remember remember the fifth of November' on the side of the Qin Bridge by the freeway (which Zuko had actually seen although he didn't know the reference). Zuko told Jet about Aang and Toph visiting when he was sick. Which reminded him of his mother, and how she used to take care of him when he wasn't feeling well, which lead to him telling Jet about her – how she'd left when he was eight. He'd never known why. He probably never would.

Jet wrapped his arms around Zuko and held him tightly, kissing his burnt temple; for once Zuko found he didn't mind too much. The air was wintry clear making the sky seem particularly huge and everywhere, which only just made the two of them feel even more together and whole. Zuko thought that he wouldn't mind feeling like that forever.

Zuko was sad to go home, but as he walked up the stairs to his apartment he still felt warm tingles where Jet had touched him during the good-bye kiss they'd shared.

He let himself into the flat and kicked off his shoes, setting them away as he usually did. The apartment smelled like fresh tea; his uncle was home. It wasn't too late, dinner hadn't even been started. Zuko was in just enough a good mood that he thought he might offer to help Iroh make the meal when he entered the kitchen and saw his uncle at the table. He looked very solemn.

"Uncle?"

Iroh glanced up, his eyes wide in surprise, like he hadn't heard Zuko come in. "Zuko," he put his hands on the table and pushed himself up to stand. "Your father called."

Zuko felt his insides squirm. His father couldn't have called just to check in, not with how grave Uncle was looking. "He did?"

The older man nodded, his expression so devoid of humor that Zuko dreaded what he'd say next. "He left a message for you – he says he knows about your indiscretion and wants you to pack your things and come home immediately."

Zuko felt like he was sinking. "For good?"

"He didn't say. But I suspect from his tone that that was what he meant." Iroh stroked his beard, thoughtful and fretful all at once. "What are you going to do?"

A few months ago Zuko would have jumped at the chance – hell, last night he would have been more than happy to leave the whole place and forget everything; he'd hurt so badly. But now … now he had a reason to stay, something else besides the will of his father was sustaining him.

Zuko bowed his head. "Maybe I should call him," he said hoarsely.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Iroh said quickly. "You should wait –maybe tomorrow after he's had time to calm down."

"He's mad?"

"He gave that impression."

Zuko knew his father, he must have been furious. He bet that Iroh had heavily paraphrased the message Ozai had left.

But what indiscretion had he done? Sure, there were a lot of things Zuko had done recently that his father would have been displeased with – many of them having taken place that very day – but none that his father could have found out about. It wasn't like his father was spying on him.

Zuko's face flushed as he realized that any number of the people who'd seen him with Jet that day could have told his father about it. All it took was one person who knew his father and could recognize Zuko.

"Zuko?" Iroh's voice pulled the boy back to reality. "What are you going to do?"

"I…" Zuko tried to think but his mind was spinning.

For so long he'd wished his father would tell him to come home – that his father would want him home again. Now his father wanted him home and Zuko felt like a black pit was growing inside of him – the taint of knowing that his father only wanted him back so he couldn't cause trouble.

"Zuko?"

"I don't know," Zuko said weakly. "I want to go home but…"

"But what about Jet?" Iroh finished.

"Yeah. Wait – what? What about Jet?" Zuko's ears started to heat up.

"I thought you two were dating now." His uncle's eyebrows rose in surprise.

Zuko's mouth fell open and his face went hot red. If his hair could have blushed it would have. "Wha – no! What?" He'd always been good at articulating clearly. "We're just friends!" He looked away, aware of how much he was blushing. He'd always been good at lying too.

"Zuko, you've been living with me for six months now and I have never seen you as happy as when you are with him."

"I'm not gay," Zuko threw out – still reeling.

Iroh sighed, "Fine, you don't have to be gay. But we have to talk about this—"

"How did you know?" Zuko blustered, still not paying attention.

"Zuko," Iroh sighed, somewhat impatiently. "I'm old but I'm not senile." He saw the unimpressed look on his nephew's face and sighed again. "I figured it out this morning when Jet came over. Can we talk about the more pressing matter at hand?"

"You're… you're okay with it?" Zuko didn't know why he asked. It wasn't like he cared what his uncle thought of him. Really. He knew what his father would think – it shouldn't have mattered to him what his uncle believed.

"Of course," Iroh said, his tone surprised. "Zuko, I've come to think of you," he swallowed like there was something in his throat, "like a son. Why would I care who you choose to be with so long as you're safe and happy?"

Now it was Zuko's turn to swallow the lump in his throat. Okay, maybe his uncle's approval did sort of matter to him. "Okay," he mumbled, looking down at the floor.

Iroh stepped forward and put his arm around Zuko's shoulder in a half-hug. "I know you've been having a rough time lately, and I know you may not want to think about it – but you have to make a decision here. What do you want to do?"

Zuko sighed, feeling shaky. He was having a rough time right _now_. He let his head fall onto his uncle's shoulder and promised himself that he would obliterate this moment of weakness form his mind later. Iroh rubbed his back the way a parent would rub the back of sick child; comforting and unfamiliar to the young boy. He sighed again.

"I'll go," he said.

"What?"

Zuko straightened up, feeling his confidence grow. "I'll go home – back to my father."

Iroh looked shocked and opened his mouth to protest but Zuko cut him off. "I don't intend to stay – I just… I need to talk to him." He pulled away from his uncle. "I'm going to go pack." He didn't move.

"Are you sure?" Iroh asked, his voice more serious than Zuko had ever heard.

The boy looked evenly in his uncles eyes. "I'm sure."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven~

Zuko leaned against the car window, barely watching as the scenery passed him by. His mind had gone back to the last time he'd gone this way. He'd been heading out to his uncle's and had wanted nothing more than to turn around and go back to his father. Now he was going to his father and wanted only to go back to Iroh. He hadn't been paying attention to the landscape then either - too hopped up on painkillers.

Zuko leaned his head against the window, the glass feeling cool against his temple.

His father had always been disappointed with him. Ozai had probably had fantastic ideas of his son growing up to be a lawyer, a doctor, or a politician like himself – but then Zuko turned five and struggled to do everything. Then there was Azula, who, besides being younger than him, never had to try to do excellently. Slowly but surely Ozai shifted all his aspirations onto his daughter and scorned the son he had once considered the natural successor to his greatness.

Once Zuko had believed he'd deserved to be thought less of; it was why he'd always studied more, practiced harder, and pushed further: so he could be worthy of praise.

Zuko had never thought to call his father abusive. Abusive fathers were sweaty, drunk, often heavy set and unshaved and they always (as far as Zuko pictured them) wore wife-beaters. None of these traits applied to Ozai, besides which, he'd only ever hit Zuko once.

There were a lot of things Zuko didn't remember about his trip to Iroh's. Besides the medication he'd been recovering from a concussion and had spent almost two months of his summer not forming long-term memories.

It was close to the end of the school year, finals were coming and Zuko remembered studying in the living room, his books laid out on the coffee table.

Despite oncoming summer it was cold and rainy. A maid started a fire in the fireplace and set out some tea. The dark, expensive upholstery, heavy red drapes, and cherry wood furniture were cast in odd relief as the light from the fire distorted their shapes. A stark contrast to the humble apartment he would later become used to.

Azula came in and stretched out to languish on the unused couch. She flipped open a thick, old book, smirking at her brother to remind him that he could study and get overage grades on his exams while she could read this book and do perfectly.

It was here where things got fuzzy. Zuko remembered Ozai coming in but couldn't remember what was said, most likely something along the lines of 'you are cluttering the table and making a mess', 'your sister can enter a room without making it look like a tornado has struck', or 'if you were as intelligent as your sister you wouldn't need to study so hard like the rest of the imbeciles in your class'. Azula had gained her ability to deliver quick, needle-sharp insults from her father.

Zuko was too used to these little jabs at his cleanliness and intelligence. He couldn't have gotten mad over that. He'd only ever gotten mad at his father five or six times in his entire life and even fewer were the times he'd been angry enough to voice his thoughts. The regular insults delivered to him had little more affect than a slight twinge of embarrassment.

What Zuko remembered for certain was Ozai becoming angry. It was because of the tea set.

"I can't understand why these useless servants must be told to throw out garbage," he'd scoffed, voice harsh as usual as he held the valuable teapot in his hand.

"It was mom's," that was reason enough for Zuko to keep it – but it had the opposite effect for Ozai.

"She's gone." Ozai managed to make the statement precise while hiding a hidden meaning that Zuko's trained ear picked up on 'she's never coming back,' it said. "'Sentimental' is just another word for 'weak' Zuko."

Zuko could feel his anger rising. Talk of his mother was the one thing that would always get him riled up. "She wouldn't have thrown out your things," he half growled, half grumbled.

Ozai's face crumbled into a cruel scowl. "I wouldn't have left. I know my responsibilities, including those to my family." His voice was cold as death. "I am still here, because I care about my duties to you and your sister, and your mother didn't."

"That's not true!" Zuko stood up suddenly. Azula's eyes flickered bright in the gleam of the fireplace, amused like she was watching a particularly juicy soap opera. "She didn't leave because she didn't love us she left because of you!"

Zuko believed it, he'd always believed it. His mother might have loved his father as she was required to, but he doubted that she liked him. He'd long thought her leaving was his fault, but it was a pity he chose then to voice his opinion.

The next thing Zuko remembered was the sound of shattering porcelain as Ozai hit him with the tea pot. It had been staggering, the amount of dizziness and pain he'd felt then, so staggering that he didn't react when he fell on his side onto the fireplace – he didn't feel the hot because he landed on his head and the world was too busy spinning to stop and notice that flames were licking at his skin.

They told him he'd pulled himself out of the fireplace though he had no recollection of it. The servants saw nothing and neither Azula nor his father had been in the room when it happened. A quick exchange of money convinced the doctor that Zuko had simply stumbled into the fire and hit his head.

The first thing Zuko really remembered was two weeks later when his father's private physician was checking his reflexes. He'd been conscious for two days, but didn't remember – this would be the highlight of his summer as he recovered.

Zuko's face was still covered in bandages when the physician gave him a little baggie of pills and the butler handed him his suitcase, fully packed. Barely a month had passed when he was forced out of his home.

The memory was black in Zuko's chest, cold with old fear. He sighed and let his head fall onto the car window. The chill off the glass felt nice on his forehead, a cold compress for his dark thoughts.

'I can't believe I'm doing this,' he thought, not for the first time. He wanted to go home, back to Iroh and Jet, but he couldn't so long as his father still had control over him.

He forced himself to think of something nicer after all, there would be plenty of unpleasantness waiting for him once he got home. Iroh would get up at the crack of dawn, make tea and eat something simple like yogurt or fruit. On a normal Sunday his uncle would open shop and spend the afternoon flirting with the female retirees that frequented the shop. Unfortunately, Zuko's leaving had thrown Iroh's schedule off. Instead of going to work, he was at home, waiting for the phone call Zuko had promised he'd make once he arrived at his father's house. Most likely he was alone, at home, crying over bad soap operas.

What would Jet be doing? Well, it was Sunday at noon, so it was a fair guess that the boy was sleeping.

Jet woke up on Sunday as he usually did after he'd crashed: sprawled across his bed, somehow with his pillow over his feet and his blanket under his head. It took him a moment to remember just why he'd fallen into bed with all his clothes on, then it came back to him. The day before: early morning, confessing his love, his and Zuko's first kiss, their first sort-of date - no wonder he'd crashed so hard! He smiled sleepily into his pillow remembering their goodbye kiss. Zuko was such a shy kisser, it was absolutely adorable. Ha… and now he was grinning to himself.

Most Sundays all Jet had to look forward to was watching reruns on television and thinking about doing homework, but the thought of Zuko and potentially spending more time with him was motivation enough for Jet to check the cracked face of the clock by his bed and decide that his boyfriend was probably awake.

Oh he'd thought 'boyfriend'!

Jet rolled out of bed and pulled off his dirty clothes, tossing them at least _towards_ the clothes hamper. He ducked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The water was cold over his bare arm and he reached over and flushed the toilet. Presto, hot water.

Once in the shower Jet was torn, should he take a quick shower and call his boyfriend - or should he take his time washing himself and shampooing so he smelled good when he eventually got to hang out with his boyfriend? (He would never get tired of using the word 'boyfriend' because, you know, his boyfriend was _Zuko_.) Jet grinned at a sudden thought: he could pick up some flowers. Zuko would be so embarrassed and happy, he'd get that look on his face – the one where he scowled and suddenly couldn't look up and his cheek and ear went bright red. He'd probably scold Jet for being so mushy and it would be totally worth it.

He was so whipped.

No. He wasn't whipped until he'd actually done it. Jet decided to take that idea and put it in his mental back-pocket to save for Zuko's birthday. Or Valentine's Day, that was closer.

Yep, definitely whipped. And so early on too.

Jet decided to merge his shower modes and quickly wash and shampoo, day-dreaming about the next time he got to be with Zuko. The two of them had hung out a lot over the school year but they hadn't really gone anywhere or done anything – now that they were dating it might be a good idea to do date stuff. He wracked his brain and thought. There was a zoo and a couple of museums downtown and a movie theater at the end of the shopping district. Then was an amusement park just a bus ride out of town, not to mention the shopping district and park where they usually hung out (because you couldn't mess with the classics). All of these places seemed really date-ish but Jet didn't know how much Zuko would enjoy any of them. He resolved to learn as much as he could about his new boyfriend.

'Roller blading could be fun,' Jet thought. 'Plus I've never done it so we could be partners in fail.'

As Jet went through his closet he tried not to immediately steer towards his favorite clothes – it wasn't like he and Zuko had agreed to meet yet. Still he dressed up a little than he normally would – particularly for a Sunday.

Jet didn't have many things about him that hinted at gay but if there was anything it would probably be his secret compulsion to always look good. Sure, others might look at him and see a red shirt with too-long sleeves and a faded green hobo coat and old pants, but really it was a claret V-neck (but not that deep a 'v'), moss-green military style jacket with pre-stressed jeans. That scruffy look? Intentional. It just added to his roguish charm.

Jet dressed and absently thought about Zuko. He'd look really good in a cardigan. Indigo would be a nice color on him; it would contrast nicely with his pale skin and make the warm tone of his eyes stand out (and those were two of Zuko's features which Jet particularly enjoyed).

Wondering if he could get Zuko to brave another shopping outing and shuddering to think that the boy was probably wandering around wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt with a restaurant logo on it, Jet picked up the phone.

On the first ring he started to pace nervously. He hadn't thought this through at all. What if Zuko was still asleep? What if he was working at his uncle's today? Oh God, had he dialed the right number?

The phone rang.

Jet was suddenly reminded of sixth grade health class where teachers had attempted to thwart the onset of teenage hormones using reason. The class had been told of the Stages of Affection (or something like that, there was also a stairway and/or ladder involved) apparently during the first few weeks of dating the two people went through a sort of high where everything was wonderful. This high was either followed by a plateau or a crash.

The phone was still ringing.

The crash now seemed to me imminent.

"Hello?" Jet stopped his pacing and his heart fluttered in his chest, but only for a moment, then he realized the voice scratching over the receiver was too deep and old to be Zuko's.

"Hey Iroh," he said in his Most Respectable Tone, "Is Zuko home?"

"I'm afraid not."

Jet slumped against the lumpy couch in front of his TV stand. "Where is he?" He tried to say politely as he picked at a whole at the upholstery. He had no intention of hunting Zuko down – that would be very stalker-ish. But it still couldn't hurt to know, maybe Zuko was somewhere nearby. Maybe he was at work and Jet could go see him in an apron (but then why would Iroh be home?). Jet couldn't help but feel a little put out that he was at home thinking about Zuko and Zuko was someplace unknown thinking about things unknown.

Iroh seemed to hesitate before replying to Jet's question, "He's home… at his father's house."

"His father," Jet repeated, his first thought was that of a selfish whine, 'Why?' Then he remembered the weight of _Zuko's father_.

"What?" He demanded a little less graciously. _Zuko's father_, Jet hadn't realized until then how much he hated that man. Images of Zuko flashed before his mind's eye, his expression when his sister commented on his face, the look of shock and fear he'd put on when he'd thought Jet was reaching to touch his scar, all the tiny, little insecure turns of his head or fiddling with his hair that the boy unconsciously did whenever he thought someone was staring. Zuko probably hadn't even noticed how he'd tensed every time Jet touched the left side of his face when they'd kissed yesterday. And it was all that bastards fault.

He didn't say any of this to Iroh though, just silently ground his teeth together and seethed. He almost didn't hear Iroh's next words.

"My brother wanted Zuko to go home for good – but Zuko has gone to ah … discuss the situation with him. He seemed confident that he'll be back today or tomorrow."

'Unless his dad does something to him.' Jet swallowed the bile in his throat. Zuko had grown up around this asshole – he must know what he was doing - how to handle the situation best. Jet wondered how well he'd handled the situation that had led to his scar. He tried to reassure himself; Iroh wouldn't have let Zuko go if he really thought he could be in danger… right?

"Jet?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm… I'm still here." Jet thought he'd wanted to see Zuko before, now he _needed_ to see him, preferably with some hugging thrown in as well so he could confirm that his boyfriend was still safe and in one piece.

"I've been waiting for Zuko to call me – I'll tell him you asked for him." Iroh's tone was an attempt at reassuring. "When he gets home the two of you should do something." He offered helpfully, still trying to lift Jet's mood.

"Yeah," Jet exhaled.

"I'm thinking clothes shopping would be nice, hm? He looked pretty sharp in that outfit you picked up and his wardrobe could use some primping."

Jet grinned in spite of himself. "I was thinking that too."

"Something to match his eyes." Iroh suggested, still tactfully pulling away from the bad subject.

Jet thought of the beautiful warmth of Zuko's eyes. "Yeah," he agreed distractedly.

Part of the fun of taking art classes was learning all the many different names for the hundreds of shades there were. He wished he knew the names of more yellow tones so he could use the right ones. 'Amber' was so cliché and Zuko's eyes deserved to be studied closely and confirmed as being a completely unique and gorgeous – just like Zuko. Damn he wished the boy was with him then.

"Well," he stammered, dragging his Most Respective Tone out once more, "if you're waiting for his call I won't hold up your lines."

"Thank you, Jet. I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend."

'I'd enjoy it more if Zuko were already home,' Jet thought, but he replied, "Yeah, you too."

They finished their good-byes and hung up, Jet dropping his phone onto the seat of the couch to be lost later. He wandered around the room for a moment, wondering what to do with himself.

His boyfriend had just gone to talk to the Bastard of Doom (aka his abusive cock-sucking father). Hell, next time Jet saw Zuko he was bringing him some fucking flowers! Then he was going to take him on the best date ever, followed by a make-out session set to last until Zuko felt like the million bucks he was.

Jet paced some more, feeling twitchy. He spotted his cigarettes, perched in their usual place on his television. He reached out to them by force of habit, but thought better of it and instead when to his closet to dig out his (dated) phonebook.

What would be a good restaurant to take Zuko to?


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve~

There was no one to greet Zuko when the cab pulled up the long driveway. Ozai was at work –typical, considering it was Sunday and his only son whom he hadn't seen in months had finally come home. A single maid saw him carrying his suitcase up the front steps and tried to help him with it but Zuko shooed her off with a 'no thank you'. He could barely imagine how he'd let other people take care of him as meticulously as the servants had before he left - now it just seemed strange.

Zuko wandered into the main foyer, marveling over the high ceiling, he'd almost forgotten how huge his father's home was. He ascended the grand stair case, dragging his suitcase behind him, and headed down a side hall. The lower half of the walls had wood paneling, the top half was painted his father's favorite shade of dark red. Hanging in the hallway were several paintings and scrolls, all of them priceless. At Iroh's the only adornments on the walls were photographs, mostly of him, his late wife and Lu Ten, and a few even of Zuko. He claimed they were priceless too.

Zuko's room hadn't changed since he'd left it. It might have been a little tidier; a maid had obviously come through.

He stood in the doorway and looked around, wondering at the lack of nostalgia he felt.

On one wall was his closet with his TV stand and television. The wall opposite the door was taken up entirely by a huge window with a view of the capitol city. Then there was his desk, his bed, and his bookcase.

Zuko opened his suitcase. He'd only packed enough clothes for two days. He didn't plan on staying longer.

When he'd moved out he'd been doped up and a servant had packed for him, now he took the time to go through everything he'd left behind. He stuffed his books and some photographs in his suitcase and found his cellphone in one of his desk drawers. His bonsai tree was still alive – someone must have remembered to water it. Zuko set it next to his suitcase then lay down on his bed.

He jumped in surprise as a black mass tried and failed to get onto the bed. "Hey Mako," he murmured, mildly amused at the sheepish look the cat gave him. He leaned over and grabbed the obese feline around his middle and pulled him up beside him. Mako meowed and sprawled out happily. At least someone had missed him.

Iroh had asked Zuko to call him when he arrived so Zuko pulled out his cellphone and did just that.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me. Just calling to say I got here without dying."

"Well that's good," Iroh chuckled. "How are Azula and your father?"

"I haven't seen them yet," Zuko absently scratched Mako's ears and the cat purred like a train engine.

"How are you?"

"Fine. I packed some of the stuff I left last time." Zuko knew that wasn't really what his uncle was asking, but he didn't really want to talk about himself at that moment.

Mako meowed at him and Zuko obliged by scratching his chin. He wondered absently how much attention his mother's old cat was getting from Azula and his father – neither of them were big animal lovers.

"Hey, Uncle?"

"Yes?"

"How do you feel about cats?"

Zuko spent the rest of his day lounging on the bed, pinned down by twenty-five pounds of cat on his stomach. By the time he got up he was covered in fur.

He journeyed through the too-big house and fetched the cat-carrier from its place in the laundry room, refusing all help from servants. Their insistence to wait on him was like a challenge to overcome, in a fit of defiance he went the extra mile and made himself some tea. Admittedly, he was lost for a moment. The stove at his father's home was a much more advanced model than the stove at Iroh's – but he managed to boil some water. He drank his tea with graham crackers – the only thing his nervous stomach could handle.

After eating so many meals in the warm, closeness of Iroh's tiny kitchen Zuko found he couldn't eat in his father's dining room. A large, cold place, the walls were painted that same deep red with gilt-framed paintings the only decoration. The dark, oak table was long enough to allow many guests and the fireplace behind the head of the table was large enough to impress them.

Zuko ate his meager snack in the kitchen, a place he'd almost never been in when he'd lived there. He looked around at the stainless-steal appliances and dark linoleum countertops and he wondered why Ozai would need such a nice kitchen when he probably had never set foot inside of it.

"So you're back?"

Zuko was caught off-guard but he tried not to let his surprise show. As ridiculous as it was, his first thought was to ask why in the world Azula would be in the kitchen – but he answered this himself when he remembered the great lengths his sister would go to to cause him misery.

"I'm not staying long," he replied coolly.

"Of course not," Azula crossed her arms and walked to stand by him, moving like a tiger stalking its prey. "Father's not going to keep you here long – he's going to find some other hole to dump you in so you can't embarrass him anymore. Maybe you can go live on the coast with Li and Lo?"

"I'm not going anywhere but back home with Uncle," Zuko said evenly. "Dad and I are going to have a talk."

"Ha!" Azula looked like she might have been genuinely amused by this (which was never good). "That went over so well last time. Just make sure there aren't any dangerous teapots around when you do." She sneered and glanced at the teapot Zuko had been using. Zuko just scowled – he couldn't argue, he'd been thinking the same thing.

"I wonder what Father will have to say about you sucking face with that homeless boy."

Zuko could have denied it, could have asked how she'd known, but instead all he could manage was: "Jet's not homeless!"

"Oh, sorry," Azula rolled her eyes. "He just looks dirty and dresses like a peasant."

Zuko oddly found 'peasant' more insulting than 'homeless' – but he reminded himself that Azula was just trying to get a reaction from him. Typical Azula behavior.

WWJD? What would Jet do? Come up with an angry yet semi-intelligent comeback – not Zuko's forte. What would Uncle do?

He ignored Azula and took a sip of his tea.

"You know that boy looked so ratty – he may not be homeless but he's certainly impoverished. If Father pays him off to keep him quiet do you think he'll haggle or accept whatever's offered to him right away?"

"Neither!" Zuko snapped, standing up in his anger.

Azula's eyes flashed dangerously, "Really, Zuko, what would Mother say?"

Zuko felt all anger drain away as he remembered the last time he'd seen his mother. She woke him in the middle of the night and he'd been too sleepy to note that something was wrong but he remembered what she had said to him.

"She would say that I should be true to myself." Zuko said evenly, "She loved me." He didn't need to add that their mother hadn't loved Azula. It was a suspicion that was shared by both of them and hung in the air without being said.

For the first time Azula was the one left speechless. Zuko couldn't help but feel a tug of victorious pride, but also a sting of disgust. He liked to win as much as anyone, but he didn't enjoy inflicting hurt – that was what Azula did.

Picking up his tea, he side-stepped his sister and retreated to his room before she could marshal her forces. Half-way up the stairs he heard the front door open and a butler greeted, "Good evening, sir."

Shit. His father was home.

Zuko paced in his room, running a speech through his head though he knew he wouldn't be able to say it properly when he actually spoke with his father. At some point he realized that he was waiting for his father to call for him. Ozai knew he was home, Zuko had heard the servant tell him so before he retreated to his room. Still his father hadn't called for him and Zuko was torn between anger that he was being ignored and anger that he still felt obliged to wait.

He paced some more, and then sat on the bed. Mako didn't join him; he'd seen the kitty-carrier and had gone into hiding.

Zuko wished he knew Jet's phone number, he wanted to talk to him; he missed him so.

Zuko lay down and buried his face into his pillow. He couldn't believe he had it so bad for Jet that he couldn't spend a day without missing him. But it wasn't so strange given the circumstances right? He was nervous and lonely in that house full of people who didn't care about him, a house where so many bad things had happened.

Zuko wanted Jet with him; he could just imagine the boy's arms around him, the sound of his heartbeat against Zuko's ear, the smell of cigarette smoke, and the heat of his breath tingling against Zuko's hair.

Zuko threw the pillow away and sat up. No use getting horny for his boyfriend.

His ears and face burned in a hot blush as he realized he'd just thought 'boyfriend'. He felt a ridiculous surge of happiness.

Zuko wanted to be with his boyfriend. He wanted to touch that dark skin and be touched in turn. He wanted Jet to tell him a stupid story and call him 'emo' and laugh at him. He wanted to go home.

Zuko got up off the bed and left his room.

Ozai's study had double doors. They were made of a dark, oak with gold trimmings, ornate – but not too much so. Zuko stood before them, psyching himself up.

The last time he'd stood before these doors he'd been carrying a teacher's note for getting into a fight with a kid named Chan in the second grade. Zuko felt just as nervous now as he did then – but he forced himself to think of Jet and home.

He opened the doors without knocking, then stood in the doorway looking in.

Ozai was sitting at a large, wood paneled desk. On all sides of the room were bookshelves, home to encyclopedias, directories, trophies, certificates, and a few antiques that probably cost as much as the house.

Zuko let his gaze fall on his father, silhouetted by a burning fire in the mantle behind him. The glow made his father look dark and sinister, his gold eyes visible and shining coldly. Intimidating, but it was supposed to be, his father worked best by intimidating others.

"So you're back." His voice was deep and cold. Zuko's heart slammed in his chest, but he'd be damned if he let his fear show. Those steely gold eyes glanced away, bored. "Don't bother unpacking your things – you'll be leaving soon. In the meantime stay inside; this'll all go to waste if you're seen by the wrong people."

"I'm leaving," Zuko said. His tone was strong but not too loud, still Ozai's eyes snapped up in a harsh glare.

"What?"

"I'm leaving; I'm going back to Uncle's tomorrow."

"You will do as you are told." Zuko watched his father's large hands flatten the papers on his desk.

"No."

"What did you say?" Those eyes pierced him, but Zuko felt stronger with each word.

"I'm done taking orders from you."

Ozai's eyes narrowed dangerously and he stood up quickly. "You dare defy me?"

Zuko could almost hear Jet's voice: '"you dare defy me?" what dynasty did this guy come from?'

"I am your father, boy!"

"You are my father – my father who treated me like garbage. My father who hurt me – how can you possibly justify yourself?" Zuko felt years of pent up emotion pour out and he didn't seem to be able to stop the flow. "You teach your children to lie and steal from others and you say you're better than everyone else because you're crueler than they are – what kind of father are you?"

"You think I should have been kind to you? If you were worthy of my respect I would give it to you. You think I should have taught you that everyone is equal? They're not. You're proof of that."

"Maybe to your eyes." Zuko glared, his chest felt full and strong. "But you're the one setting the bar and I don't need you to tell me I'm not reaching it. I don't need you at all."

"Your uncle's gotten to you."

"Yes. He has, but it's more than that. I've learned it for myself too."

"So you'll go back to him and spend the rest of your life as a failure. Maybe you'll join him in the food industry as well?" Ozai's voice was thick with contempt.

"Maybe," Zuko hadn't thought on it. "But whatever I do, it'll be something I chose for myself and I'll be the one who decides if I've failed or not."

"Not after I'm through with you," Ozai snarled through clenched teeth. "Don't forget I'm still your father. I won't let you run off to shame your family with some boy you don't know – you won't embarrass me! I won't let you go so easy."

WWJD? What would Jet do?

Zuko smirked, "What will you do? You think you can lock me up? Iroh knows I'm coming back – wouldn't it be bad press if your brother called the cops to report your son missing? Do you think anyone will be interested how I got this scar?"

"You're nothing!" Ozai roared, coming around the desk, his fists out. If Zuko was expecting his father to come at him to yell some more he would have been sorely disappointed. Ozai swung at Zuko's face, something the boy was half expecting and was able to dodge so that his father just barely clipped his cheek. Toph hit harder.

Zuko grabbed the cuff of his father's jacket and slipped his other arm under his father's bicep. He flipped himself around so his back was to his father's front, then lifted and pulled. Ozai let out an undignified shout as he was thrown over his son's shoulder, smashing into a decorative antique vase in the outside hall as he landed.

Zuko let out the breath he'd been holding in. It didn't feel very satisfying hurting his father – but he figured that was a good sign he wouldn't turn out like him.

"Leave me alone." He said as he glared down at Ozai. "All I want now is to never see you again. You do this for me and I'll forgive you."

"Forgive? You're weak!" Ozai growled as he rolled over – he was moving slowly, must've forgotten to tuck his chin.

"When I say 'forgive' I mean not tell anyone about your off-shore accounts, those bribes you've been accepting, and the money you skimmed off the top of those donations from two years ago."

Ozai stopped getting up and just stared, furious but too shocked to say anything. Two in one day, Zuko was getting good at turning people speechless – not something he was too proud of.

"Wha—"

"I haven't been living here for so long that I don't know what's going on." Zuko scoffed. If he could be proud of one thing, he'd be proud of his acting. His father would never know how scared he was. But he wasn't afraid anymore was he?

Zuko looked down at his father, his hair mussed and broken pottery clinging to his clothes. No. He wasn't afraid anymore. He stepped over, avoiding the man rising before him.

"Oh," he stopped. "I'm taking the cat." And he walked away.

Safely in his room Zuko felt like he was bursting with energy. He didn't know whether to lie down, go for a run, or puke. He decided none of them would do. What he wanted to do most was go home.

He'd planned to stay longer, but what was the point? He'd seen Azula and his father and he'd packed the things he meant to bring back to Iroh's. If he left now he might make it back in time to help his uncle make dinner. Maybe visit Jet before he had to go to bed – he did have school tomorrow after all.

Just as when he arrived, the only one to see Zuko go was a passing maid. She was carrying a dust bin with the pieces of the vase he'd broken. She saw him see this and then, surprisingly, gave him a nod of approval. He found himself smiling.

The cabbie he'd called for helped load his suitcase while a caged Mako was set in the backseat.

Zuko got out his phone.

"Uncle?"

"Zuko? Jet just called – I told him you'd call him." There was a pause. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Uncle." Zuko looked one last time at the large, beautiful house he'd grown up in. He missed warmth and tea. "I'm coming home."

"Who is that?"

"Who?"

"That guy with Katara."

Jet leaned over to look, "By Jove! It's Haru! He's shaved his mustache!"

Zuko frowned, "He looks a lot better."

Jet laughed and took a chomp out of his bread, twiddling a pen between his fingers to distract himself from lack of cigarette.

Having surrendered himself to full Iroh parentage, Zuko's smokes were quickly found and thrown out – his uncle knew everything. Jet kindly said he would quit too – for his boyfriend's sake. Zuko was still waiting for withdrawal to drive them crazy – but they'd stayed up almost all night (after realizing their Sign Language project was due and not finished) and they hadn't killed each other yet. Nicotine addictions aside, they were both quick to find a new way to satisfy their oral fixations.

Zuko looked down at the school yard and saw Sokka without girlfriend, without sister, sitting beneath the yard tree. Suki, having just lost her dance partner, sat beside him. They both looked glum, him more so than her – but there was hope there. Zuko thought that they could make a nice couple.

He was distracted from his thoughts as Jet stole up behind him, grabbing him in a tight hug. "What're you smiling at, emo kid?"

Zuko grinned; he kind of loved it when Jet teased him.

"I'm just happy."

"No!" Jet mocked a gasp and Zuko elbowed him playfully. They quieted and drew together as a cold gust blew over the roof and through them.

"Geez, it's almost winter." Jet sighed, "The year's going by fast – holy crap we're graduating soon!"

He laughed gently and his breath fluttered Zuko's hair.

"Yeah, it won't be too bad though." Zuko leant into the boy's warm chest.

"I'll miss math."

"I'll miss Nyla."

They both laughed softly.

"They _are_ up here!"

The two boys jumped a mile as Aang sprang out from the roof stairwell. Toph followed behind, blinking in surprise as a strong gust of wind whipped her hair in her face. Teo appeared behind her, leaning back in his chair so that he was doing a wheelie as he rolled out onto the rooftop.

"Did you get all the way up here yourself?" Jet asked in awe.

"Yeah," Teo said nonchalantly. "I wanted to see the view."

"How are you going to get back down?" Zuko asked,

"Very carefully? Let's just say I'm not looking forward to it." The boy wheeled himself over to the roof edge. Toph followed, her hand barely touching the top of his chair, letting him lead her.

"Jet! We came to talk to you about club." Aang cut in.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Because Sokka has been feeling down and Katara told me his birthday is this week - can we have a party at club, please?" Aang's eyes grew big and fairly puppy-like.

"You have birthday parties?" Zuko asked – it was unheard of at Sozen Prep.

"Yeah – we're all friends right?" Aang didn't seem to understand the question, but Zuko gave a hesitant nod anyway.

"Yeah, sure, Aang." Jet said, "I'll talk to Piandao."

"Thanks!" Aang threw his hands in the air, then abruptly lowered them. "By the way, why are you two hugging?"

Zuko'd almost forgotten - it seemed so natural.

"Zuko gets cold easily." Jet lied and Toph snorted. Zuko had a feeling she knew exactly what was going on.

"Will you miss Aang?" Jet whispered into his boyfriend's ear.

"No." Zuko lied.

They both noticed Aang looking at them, eyebrows quirked.

"Hey guys," Jet pulled away from his boyfriend. "You see that girl with the long black hair? She's in our class, her name is June – watch what she does to those first year girls."

The two younger boys leaned over to watch, Toph stood by, unimpressed.

Jet slipped behind them, slyly reaching an arm around his boyfriend's waist and pulling him in. Zuko's ears were blushing hot but the warmth of Jet's lips on his was too much to pass up.

Below, the shrieks of first year girls introduced to Nyla was drowned out by another gust of fall wind, carrying scraping leaves and just a hint of frost.

Toph spoke suddenly, "Guys, we can hear you macking back there."

FIN

It's OVER! *dances then dies* I hope you like it, I'm sorry if you don't! I've been writing this since September (roughly) so this was quite a momentous chapter for me. For those disappointed with lack of sexytime have no fear - I plan on writing some smutty oneshots. Otherwise my next big fic idea is another Jetko AU whose title I have not decided on. See you soon and thank you for reading!


	13. Smokes Smut is now a thing!

Hello! Sorry it's been so long, I just wanted to update those of you still hoping to see some Smokes au smut - Smokes au smut now exists! I wrote it! Go check out my stories, it's called 'Awkward Firsts'! There'll be four chapters of growing levels of smuttiness! Hooray!


End file.
